


The Things We Carry With Us

by enigmaticblue



Series: Science Boys in Love [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Science Boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:21:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 67,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every relationship has its ups and downs. It just so happens that, contrary to SHIELD’s records, Bruce and Tony have nearly three decades of history between them. (Or, the one where Tony and Bruce meet as teenagers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Boston, Massachusetts, Summer 1984

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Underage sex (Bruce is 18, and Tony is 17), mentions of child abuse and self-harm consistent with the MCU and 616. Some homophobic thoughts consistent with the time period. Barebacking, again, consistent with the time period.
> 
> Other Notes: As far as I know, the science camp where Bruce and Tony meet does not exist, nor has it ever existed. If it does (or did) any resemblance is pure coincidence. For the purposes of this fic, Tony was born in 1970, per his file in the MCU, and Bruce was born in 1969.
> 
> Title from a Star Trek quote: “Damn it, Bones, you’re a doctor. You know that pain and guilt can’t be taken away with a wave of a magic wand. They’re the things we carry with us, the things that make us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. I don’t want my pain taken away. I need my pain.” ~James T. Kirk, Star Trek V: The Final Frontier

Bruce clutches the strap of his backpack a little more tightly and tries to keep his voice even. He knows better than to show his anger, even though the panic is clawing at him. “I don’t understand.” He looks down at the letter in his hand. “This says I got accepted.”

 

“And you are!” The woman gives him a pitying look. “I have your registration right here. I’m saying that we don’t have a room for you right now. We’ll definitely find somewhere you can sleep.”

 

Bruce takes a deep breath, in and then out, and then again. “I still don’t understand.”

 

She looks over his shoulder. “I’m—I’m sorry. I’ll be right back, and we’ll sort this out.”

 

Behind Bruce, in the lobby of the MIT dormitory where he’s supposed to be staying, is a man in a suit. Bruce doesn’t have any trouble recognizing him—his face has been on the cover of _a lot_ of magazines.

 

Billionaire industrialist Howard Stark shows up, and _of course_ everybody’s jumping to do his bidding, even though Bruce had been there first. Even though he’d worked his _ass_ off to get here, to earn the money needed to make up the difference between the registration and the scholarship he’d been offered. Even though his aunt and uncle had saved their pennies to be sure he could get the airfare, and had the materials, and decent clothes, and enough spending money to keep him comfortable.

 

None of that makes any difference. Bruce wishes that surprised him, just like he wishes it surprised him that even though there had already been two others fluttering around Stark, the lady helping him thought she needed to be there, too.

 

Of-fucking-course.

 

“What an asshole, huh?”

 

Bruce turns to look at the speaker, a kid about his own age, maybe a little younger. He’s thin, with dark hair that flops over one eye, and he’s wearing designer jeans.

 

Bruce tries not to judge him on that last fact. The two-week intensive science camp isn’t cheap, although there are more than a few scholarships available. A lot of the kids here are going to be a lot more well off than Bruce is.

 

“You know who he is?” Bruce asks.

 

The other kid shrugs. “Sure, who doesn’t? That doesn’t make him less of an asshole.”

 

Bruce grimaces. “Yeah, I guess.” He stares at the crumpled letter in his hand, and he’s glad he’d been paranoid enough to bring it now. His aunt keeps telling him that he doesn’t have to expect the worst, but so far, he hasn’t seen any evidence as to why he shouldn’t.

 

“What are you here for?”

 

Bruce glances up at him again, and now the kid is leaning against the registration desk, which is really just a card table with a banner taped to it that reads, “Welcome, Future Scientists!”

 

Bruce would have found it really cheesy if there hadn’t been a lot of truth behind it. A camp like this could mean scholarships down the road, even fellowships later when he does his doctorate. Contacts made here could open a lot of doors for him, and Bruce _needs_ that, just as much as he needs two weeks around people who don’t think he’s weird for having an interest in physics and chemistry.

 

Realizing that he hasn’t answered the question—and that he’s not quite sure what the question is—he asks, “I’m sorry?”

 

“I’m here for robotics,” the other boy says. “Engineering. My main interest is in artificial intelligence, though.”

 

It’s the way his eyes light up when he says “artificial intelligence” that makes Bruce relax, recognizing the same kind of glee he has when talking about gamma radiation and particle physics.

 

“Physics,” Bruce admits. “Although I like chemistry, too. And, uh, pretty much anything science related.”

 

The registration lady still isn’t back yet, and Bruce is beginning to think that he might get stuck sleeping on one of the couches in the lounge. It’s not the worst fate, but he’s still annoyed by the idea.

 

“Do you know Carl Demmer’s work on the use of the biomechanical processes to create prosthetics that respond to a person’s thoughts?” the kid asks.

 

Bruce frowns. “Demmer’s theories are sound, but the technology needed to actually back them up is decades away. Battle bots are a nice idea, but completely outside the realm of possibility now.”

 

“With the proper AI, I think it’s possible,” the kid replies hotly.

 

Bruce finds himself forgetting the trouble he’d had registering, the fact that the lady who’s supposed to be helping him is still fluttering around Howard Stark, and the fact that he might be sleeping on the lounge couch for the next two weeks if this doesn’t get straightened out.

 

 _This_ is what he’d come here for. Bruce feels challenged for the first time in—well, ever.

 

“And computers are still a long way off from being able to sustain that kind of artificial intelligence!” Bruce protests. “You’d need a computer the size of a skyscraper to do what you’re suggesting.”

 

“We’ve got the microchip now,” the kid argues. “We have portable calculators. We have _computers_. I built one when I was four. It’s not that hard. I think it can be done.”

 

Bruce pauses, really thinks about it, because that’s what he’s here for—to have his boundaries tested, to rethink what’s possible. “The neural links necessary for that kind of system, the sheer intelligence…”

 

He’s still thinking about it when the kid asks, “So what was the problem with the registration thing?”

 

Bruce flushes. “It’s no big deal.”

 

Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it’s humiliating. Bruce just wants to fit in; he wants to be _normal_ for a change. That’s not possible back home, but he thought he might have the chance here, surrounded by other people who are just as bright and scientifically minded as he is.

 

And yet—Bruce gets screwed over once again. Story of his life.

 

“Maybe I can help,” the kid replies.

 

Bruce doesn’t see how, but he says, “They have my registration, but they said they don’t have anywhere to put me. Something went wrong with the room assignments or something.”

 

He’s a little surprised to see guilt flash across the kid’s face. “You can bunk with me,” he says.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “That’s—that’s actually really nice of you, but they’ve probably already assigned you a roommate. I don’t want to kick anybody else out.”

 

“Pretty sure they haven’t,” the kid replies. “Fair warning, I’m a total dick, and it’s probably not going to be fun rooming with me, but you won’t be bored.”

 

There’s something niggling at the back of Bruce’s mind, some thought that he should know this kid, and that something really weird is going on, but he’s in the dark.

 

“I have nightmares sometimes,” Bruce replies, startled into honesty. “You shouldn’t try to wake me up, even if I’m screaming.”

 

He hadn’t meant to say that, but something about the kid’s forthrightness makes Bruce want to lay his cards on the table, especially since that’s one of the things he’d been the most concerned about with sharing a room.

 

“I can handle it,” the kid says. “Let me deal with this.”

 

Bruce watches, bemused, as the kid marches up to Howard Stark. He can’t hear what’s said at this distance, but he can see that everyone stops to listen to the kid, and he can see Stark pat the kid on the shoulder awkwardly.

 

And _that_ is when everything falls into place.

 

Bruce has been talking to Tony Stark, heir to Howard Stark’s vast fortunes and industrial empire—and he’d just kind of agreed that Howard Stark is an asshole.

 

He groans. Even for him, that’s a remarkably poor start to the two weeks he’s supposed to spend here.

 

~~~~~

 

By now Tony knows that the thing about being rich is that people will just assume shit. Like, he finally gets rid of his nanny—thank fucking _God_ —and his dad wants to get rid of him for a couple of weeks, and Tony is going to MIT in another year, so his dad promises to donate a bunch of money if they’ll let Tony attend their camp so Howard can go on his trip to whatever far-flung location needs his presence now while his mom does one of her charity trips.

 

Honestly, Tony doesn’t mind all _that_ much. From his research, he knows it’s a good camp, with cutting edge technology available to everybody who attends (not that he can’t get that at home), with the best and brightest minds of his generation.

 

So, the administrators say yes, of course he can attend, because he’s the son of Howard fucking Stark, billionaire and war hero, and they give Tony his own room. Because why would a rich kid need to share?

 

And the thing is, Tony wouldn’t normally want to share, but he sees this kid standing by the registration desk, a form letter clutched in one hand, and the other hanging on to his backpack, and the kid looks like his world has just ended.

 

Tony has an eye for people, and his mom had drilled it into his head that he had a responsibility for those who were less fortunate. From the worn pack, to the obviously new off-brand jeans, and the t-shirt that is just a little too big, Tony figures he’s a scholarship student.

 

A couple of questions, and it’s pretty damn obvious that the kid is smart— _really_ smart—which isn’t a surprise since he clearly doesn’t have a rich daddy to buy his way into the camp.

 

Tony figures he can make this right. The kid can stay with him, because he knows how this works by now, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a roommate. Even if he does, Tony figures his dad can fix this problem by throwing money at it, like he does everything else.

 

And there’s something about this kid that he likes—from the defiant set of his chin, to his obvious intelligence, to his honesty. Tony doesn’t know for sure, but he doesn’t think it will be a chore to share a room with him for a couple of weeks.

 

Besides, the kid had agreed that Howard Stark was an asshole. Tony kind of likes him already.

 

It doesn’t take more than a few whispered sentences to figure out that yes, everybody had assumed Tony would want to room by himself, and that had probably displaced Bruce, and that Tony _definitely_ wants the kid in his room, thank you very much.

 

Sometimes, it does pay to be rich. Okay, it pays all the time, but Tony now feels like kind of a jerk for displacing a kid who clearly doesn’t have rich parents to pave his way.

 

Tony’s not all that surprised when he gets no more than a pat on the shoulder from his old man, and the lady from the registration desk says, “I’ll show you to your room, Mr. Stark.”

 

“Us,” Tony corrects her. “It’s me and him.”

 

He ignores his dad. The only reason he’s there is because he got a flight out of Boston on the way to wherever, so he can keep on searching for Captain America, or whatever else catches his attention. It’s not like his dad _cares_.

 

“Be good,” his dad calls.

 

Tony shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

 

The other kid won’t meet his eyes when Tony gets back to the desk. “You don’t have to do this,” he mumbles.

 

Tony smirks. “Yeah, I kind of do, since it’s probably my fault you got booted in the first place.”

 

The registration lady makes a noise in protest, but Tony figures it’s more that she doesn’t like the fact that Tony is stating it so baldly, than because he’s not right.

 

They all _know_ it’s true.

 

“Tony,” he says, thrusting his hand out, really hoping that the other kid will take it and forget Tony’s last name, forget that he’s a billionaire’s kid who bought his way into this camp.

 

For once, he wants to be accepted for who he is, rather than his name.

 

The kid looks up, and dark eyes search Tony’s face long and hard, and then the faintest smile touches his lips. “Bruce. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

They clasp hands, and Tony thinks that maybe, just maybe, the next two weeks will be more than just bearable.

 

His time here might just be awesome.

 

~~~~~

 

The room is actually pretty nice—there are several narrow windows that let in plenty of light, two neatly made single beds, and lots of closet and shelf space in light-colored wood. It’s not quite as small as Bruce thought it would be.

 

“Got any preference on which bed you want?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “They look pretty much the same to me.”

 

Tony dumps his suitcase at the end of the closest bed. “Suit yourself.”

 

Bruce has to admit that he’s a little surprised Tony doesn’t have someone to carry his bag for him, or a bodyguard or personal assistant. Hell, he has no idea what Tony Stark is doing at a science camp.

 

“My dad wanted to get rid of me for a couple of weeks,” Tony says out of the blue.

 

“Huh?”

 

Tony throws himself down on his bed, crossing his legs at the ankles. “You were wondering why I’m here. I told you—my old man wanted to stash me somewhere for a couple of weeks while he fucked off.”

 

Bruce isn’t sure what to say to that, so he says nothing.

 

“It’s okay, I wasn’t kidding when I said he was an asshole,” Tony replies. “What’s your story?”

 

Bruce shoves his bags under his bed. “I’ve been saving up to come here for the last year.”

 

“And now _I_ feel like an asshole,” Tony says after a pause.

 

Bruce smiles. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

 

“Sounds like a big deal,” Tony says. “You know there’s a competition. If you don’t have a team already, you can be on mine.”

 

Bruce sits down on the bed across from him. “Since I don’t know anyone other than you… How many people do we need?”

 

“At least two, and no more than five,” Tony says. “But I’m not really a team player, so I’m thinking we’re good with two.”

 

Bruce looks out of the windows. “Yeah, I guess we’ve got tonight before classes start tomorrow. I think the information packet said dinner was served at six.”

 

“Fuck dinner,” Tony says. “Let’s go find something. You want to see something of Boston, right?”

 

Bruce doesn’t have a lot of spending money, but he figures one dinner out won’t break him.

 

“Hey, my treat,” Tony says. “Least I can do for nearly getting you kicked out of your room.”

 

Bruce shifts uncomfortably. “You don’t have to. I mean, you made it right.”

 

“So? Let me make it a little more right with pizza,” Tony says with a quick, charming grin.

 

Bruce stares at him. “Does anyone ever say no to you?”

 

“My father, frequently,” Tony says. “But everybody else? Pretty much never.”

 

“Yeah, okay, pizza,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony slides his sunglasses on. “Come on. Let’s hit the road.”

 

Bruce doesn’t have a lot of friends—well, he doesn’t really have _any_ friends, other than his cousin—so he doesn’t have a lot of comparisons to draw on, but he doesn’t think Tony’s like anybody else. Tony walks close to him, their shoulders bumping companionably, and talks about computers and coding and building networks.

 

It’s pretty fucking great, actually, mostly because Bruce feels like there’s finally someone who can keep up with him.

 

“So, what’s your story?” Tony asks over a couple of greasy New York-style slices, which Tony insists is the only pizza worth eating. “Let me guess—two parents, kid sister, and you live in the suburbs.”

 

Bruce freezes. _This_ is why he doesn’t have friends—at least a big part of the reason he doesn’t, other than his generally anti-social personality, and being leagues ahead of his peers. But he’d known he’d have to say something, have to tell some story.

 

He’s rehearsed it in his head, but faced with Tony’s open expression and warm grin, Bruce is left speechless.

 

Tony’s eyes widen. “Oookay, so I’m way off base, huh?”

 

Bruce clears his throat. “That obvious?”

 

“Only in the sense that you’d rather bolt than answer that question,” Tony replies. “And you don’t have to. Answer, that is.”

 

Bruce hesitates. “Aunt and uncle, one cousin, but yes on the suburbs. Although my cousin is basically my kid sister, if that makes you feel any better.”

 

Tony grimaces. “Sorry, man.”

 

When he doesn’t ask any other questions, Bruce relaxes. “It’s okay. I’m lucky to have them.”

 

It’s an automatic response, the sort of thing a normal person would say, although it’s also true.

 

Bruce isn’t _ungrateful_ , not at all. If anything, he’s just a little too aware of how much he has to be grateful _for_ every single day, and sometimes it’s a little too much for him.

 

“Still fucking sucks,” Tony replies with conviction, even though he doesn’t know half the story.

 

Somehow, that makes Bruce feel a lot better. “Yeah, it does.”

 

“What would you do with a particle accelerator?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce frowns, not quite following the turn in the conversation. “What?”

 

“Say you had a particle accelerator in your basement,” Tony says, leaning forward and speaking through a mouthful of pizza. “What would you do with it?”

 

Bruce has never thought about it. “I—” He stops and really thinks about it. “How long do I have?”

 

Tony grins. “One week.”

 

And Bruce’s mind spins with the possibilities.

 

~~~~~

 

The thing about Bruce is that he’s smart—really fucking smart, almost as smart as Tony—but he’s reluctant to draw attention to himself. Whatever lecturer is talking that day, he’ll ask a question, and if Bruce knows the answer, he’ll just slump down a little farther in his chair. He should be strutting, but he never does.

 

They’re in a biochem lecture, one Bruce had been excited to attend, and yet he keeps his mouth shut.

 

Tony gives him a considering look, and the next time a question is asked, he says loudly, “Bruce here knows the answer.”

 

Bruce glares at him and hisses, “Tony!”

 

Dr. Mueller smiles. “Yes? Mr. Banner?”

 

Bruce sighs, but he answers, and probably gives a better answer than the other kids would have, and a lot of them have a couple of years on Bruce.

 

That just makes it better, in a way. Most of the kids here are seventeen or eighteen, and are going to MIT in the fall. He and Bruce are nearly the same age, and Tony knows the rest of them think that Tony’s just some rich asshole who bought his way in.

 

Which, okay, is fair, but Tony knows that he and Bruce are going to smoke the competition with the combined power of their intellect.

 

Bruce jostles him as they leave the lecture hall. “Seriously? Way to throw me under the bus, man.”

 

“Is this a strategy I didn’t know about?” Tony asks in a low voice. “A way to fool the competition into underestimating us, because if so, I like the way you think, and I’m sorry if I ruined it.”

 

Bruce sighs, sounding deeply put upon. “It’s not a strategy. I just don’t like calling too much attention to myself.”

 

Tony frowns. “But we’re here! We’re at _fucking science camp_. I get wanting to keep your brain under wraps when you’re worried about getting shoved into a locker, but there are no lockers here! Word is out, you’re a giant nerd.”

 

Bruce rubs his eyes. “That’s not exactly—”

 

“Okay, not to land a low blow or anything, but putting yourself out there is exactly what you need to do,” Tony says. “If my old man ever taught me anything, it’s that you need money to make money, and if you don’t have money, you need connections.”

 

Bruce leans against the wall. “I’m not good at this, Tony.”

 

“Beg to differ,” Tony replies. “I was there, and you did awesome. And if you keep practicing, it’ll feel natural. You gotta put yourself out there. I’m assuming you want a Ph.D. eventually.”

 

He knows when Bruce gets Tony’s point, because his shoulders slump. “And I need fellowships, academic advisors, and the rest.”

 

“And you can’t do any of that if you’re not willing to put it out there,” Tony agrees.

 

There’s something complicated going on in Bruce’s head right now; Tony can see the wheels turning, can see how hard this is for him. Tony doesn’t know why, but he’s willing to bet it has something to do with the nightmares Bruce says he gets sometimes.

 

Tony slings his arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s grab a couple of sandwiches and eat outside.”

 

They sit under a tree to eat, their backs against the trunk, not looking at each other, although their shoulders are pressed together.

 

“We need to talk about our project,” Bruce says.

 

Tony digs around in his bag of potato chips. “Okay, yes, if that’s what you want to talk about.”

 

“I don’t know how to be what you want,” Bruce says. “What I need to be.”

 

Tony honestly has no idea what to do with that. He’s not good at shit like this. Still, he knows there’s one thing he _can_ say. “I don’t need you to _be_ anything. I like _you_.”

 

“I think you’re insane,” Bruce replies, but Tony can hear the humor in Bruce’s voice.

 

“You’ll figure the rest out,” Tony assures him. “You’ve got some time to practice, and you can always practice on me.”

 

Bruce bumps his shoulder. “Have you given any more thought to the competition?”

 

“We won’t know what we have to work with for a few days,” Tony replies. “But I figure that with my superior skills in robotics, and your knowledge of physics, we’re a shoo-in for first place.”

 

He knows that the other kids are wheeling and dealing, trying to figure out the best people to team up with. They all get the same materials to work with, and have to build a working machine that utilizes either chemical or mechanical power to perform a simple task, like moving ping pong balls. Machines are allowed to bump each other off, too.

 

But Tony doesn’t have any doubt that the two of them are enough for a team. And while Tony figures that they’re probably supposed to be making other friends, it’s not like they haven’t talked to the other kids.

 

It’s just that Tony _likes_ Bruce; he’s smart and nice and good company. Tony doesn’t see the need to go further afield for companionship. Even if they hadn’t been sleeping in the same room, Tony’s pretty sure they still would have been hanging out together.

 

Tony’s the youngest person there, and Bruce looks younger than he is. The other kids haven’t come around to the fact that Tony would be awesome even if he weren’t the son of a billionaire, and Bruce isn’t strutting, so no one knows that _he’s_ awesome.

 

They’re going to have to prove themselves in order to make friends, and the big competition is their best chance to do that, but that’s at the end of the two weeks.

 

Tony’s okay with that, but maybe he should be making more of an effort on Bruce’s behalf. He could help Bruce bridge the gap.

 

Bruce sighs. “We should probably scope out the competition, right?”

 

“Call it practice,” Tony advises him. “We’ll start tonight at dinner.”

 

Bruce turns his head to look at Tony. “What? You can bring yourself to talk to someone who isn’t me? Are you sure you won’t be shocked by the sheer mediocrity?”

 

Tony laughs, delighted. “Now you’re getting the picture.”

 

~~~~~

 

Honestly? Bruce misses having Tony to himself.

 

He’s pretty sure that’s fucked up, and he should be happy to be making other friends, but he misses the intimacy of just the two of them together.

 

Because when Tony is on, he’s _on_ —all slick surface and glib answers, and better with people than Bruce could ever hope to be. As far as Bruce is concerned, he’s not the same guy who had made sure Bruce wasn’t sleeping on the common room couch, or who had taken him out to dinner that first night to make up for the near miss.

 

When Tony is charming the masses, the best Bruce can do is trail in his wake and try to keep up, although he’s pretty sure he just looks like one of Tony’s sycophants.

 

At least, that’s what he thinks until the end of the first week, after Tony keeps elbowing Bruce when he knows Bruce has the answer to a question, and if Bruce doesn’t answer, starts throwing him under the bus.

 

By the end of the first week, Bruce has some of the other kids coming to him for help with the course load, and they don’t come to Tony first. They come straight to Bruce, and they’re _nice_ about it.

 

As Tony had said, there are no lockers here. The other kids aren’t threatening him in exchange for homework help; they genuinely think that Bruce can help them understand.

 

It turns out that Bruce is good at that. He’s really good at helping people understand complicated concepts.

 

“I’m telling you,” Tony says. “When you go back home, you should market your skills as a tutor. You could make a fucking fortune.”

 

Bruce stares at him. “What?”

 

“You’re _good_ at this!” Tony exclaims. “You’ll notice that nobody’s coming to me for academic help.”

 

Bruce summons a smile. “I thought that was just because they were intimidated by your devastating good looks and vast fortune.”

 

Tony points at him. “Fair point, and probably true. The fact remains that you can teach people complicated concepts, and you could make a ton of money doing so.”

 

Bruce isn’t entirely sure how he feels about that. On the one hand, the suggestion has merit; on the other, Tony’s rich, and Bruce doesn’t know how he feels about a rich kid telling him how he can make money.

 

Or maybe that’s exactly who should be advising him.

 

In the evenings, during their designated free time, they hole in up in their room or one of the labs, hashing out the theory and equations behind their project for the competition.

 

They get through the first week and change without Bruce having a nightmare, long enough so that Bruce thinks he might get lucky, that being here might have seeped into his subconscious.

 

He should probably know better by now.

 

Bruce has a few recurring nightmares, although the theme of overwhelming terror remains the same. Sometimes he’s running down an endless hallway, hearing his father’s footsteps echo behind him, knowing that if he doesn’t get away, his father will kill him like he’d killed Bruce’s mother.

 

Sometimes, Bruce can hear his mother’s screams as his father beats her to death, and he’s racing to reach her in time.

 

And sometimes, he’s living it all over again—the pain, his mother’s screams, his father’s shouting—and he feels his mother’s blood hot on his face, mixing with his own, and hears the wails of the sirens that came too late.

 

Those dreams are the worst, and Bruce wakes with his heart in his throat and his chest aching, gasping for air and trying not to make any noise. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, and he can feel the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

 

And then he hears music—rock music, to be precise, full of drums and electric guitars and screeching.

 

“What—” he manages.

 

“You said not to wake you up,” Tony whispers. “But I thought—I don’t know. Did it help?”

 

The music from Tony’s small, portable radio isn’t loud enough to disturb their neighbors, but it had served to pull Bruce back to the present, to ground him in the here and now.

 

He lies back in bed. “It helped.”

 

“Are you okay?” Tony asks after another minute.

 

Bruce wipes his face with his hands and tries not to let his voice hitch too badly. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

 

“Do you want to leave the music on? I can change the station if you want,” Tony offers.

 

Since Tony doesn’t listen to anything other than rock and heavy metal, Bruce knows Tony’s trying to be comforting. Oddly enough, it’s working.

 

Bruce still feels the need to offer some kind of explanation. “My dad—he wasn’t a great guy.” Understatement of the century. “And my mom got in the way.”

 

Tony’s quiet, and Bruce wonders if things are going to be weird now. He hears the creak of Tony’s bed, and Tony sits on the edge of Bruce’s bed a second later. Bruce can just make out his features in the dim light filtering through the windows from the street outside.

 

He’s in boxers and a t-shirt, and Bruce suddenly has no idea what’s going to happen.

 

“Don’t make this weird,” Tony orders, and then he hauls Bruce up into a hug.

 

Bruce freezes, and then he presses his forehead against Tony’s shoulder.

 

His aunt does this, too, when she hears him having a nightmare. She never says anything, or asks if he wants to talk, she just holds him tightly.

 

After a minute or so Tony lets go, although he stays seated on Bruce’s bed. “Okay?”

 

Bruce nods. “You’re not a dick, you know.”

 

Tony smiles. “Yeah, well, don’t let it get out, okay? I have a reputation to protect.”

 

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Bruce replies, and it feels like a pact, like a promise that means something.

 

How is he to know that he’ll still be keeping that promise in thirty years’ time?

 

~~~~~

 

The last two days of camp are devoted to the competition. Tony’s pretty sure no one sleeps during that time as they work feverishly on their machines. They’ve got the same materials, and access to the same chemicals as everybody else does, and the lab space to work. He and Bruce drink soda constantly to stay awake, and eat a ton of junk food from the vending machines.

 

Building something with Bruce is just as awesome as Tony had thought it would be. Bruce has a tendency to think outside the box, and they come up with a bunch of ways to ensure their machine not only does what it’s supposed to do—carry a load of ping pong balls to a trough and deposit them—but also take out their competitions’ machines in the process.

 

For two days, they don’t talk to anyone but each other, the friendliness of the other students is buried under the fever of competition.

 

The prize isn’t much by Tony’s standards—$1000 per team member—but the winners get their names on a plaque and bragging rights. Tony’s future is assured, but he knows winning this kind of competition will mean a lot to Bruce.

 

It’s the kind of thing that looks really good on college applications, and Tony thinks it might be good for Bruce to win something for a change.

 

Bruce got dealt a shitty hand in life, and Tony likes him; he’d like to see things turn around for him.

 

And they win, _of course_ they do. They win so decisively—fending off all attackers, incapacitating two other machines, and delivering their payload whole minutes before anybody else—that Tony is almost embarrassed.

 

But only almost, because one, Tony’s not embarrassed by anything having to do with his intellect—or anything else, really—and two, Bruce’s _face_ when they win.

 

Bruce’s expression is quietly incredulous, like someone had just handed him the whole world on a silver platter, like it’s his birthday and Christmas combined.

 

Tony slings an arm around Bruce’s shoulders and crows his delight, and Bruce can only stare at their little machine that had scooted its way to victory.

 

The other teams come up and congratulate them, and other than one or two kids, they’re all gracious losers and sincerely complimentary of Bruce and Tony.

 

Tony reins in his own glee to appropriate levels, but it’s not until they get back to their room that Bruce finally speaks. “We won.”

 

“Decisively!” Tony says, throwing himself down on his bed with glee. “We kicked ass, man.”

 

Bruce sits down on his own bed. “We _won_.”

 

“I told you we would,” Tony replies. “Oh, ye of little faith. Did you forget who was on your team?”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “No. I just—there are a lot of smart people here.”

 

“I think we can definitively say that we are the smartest guys here,” Tony replies with a grin. “What are you going to do with your prize money, huh?”

 

Bruce blinks, as though he hadn’t even considered that. “Oh, um, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll buy a car or something. Or save it for college.”

 

“You can have mine, too, if you want it,” Tony offers carelessly.

 

Bruce glares at him. “No, Tony. I’m not a charity case.”

 

“Did I say you were?” Tony asks. “I don’t need the money.”

 

Bruce’s expression turns mulish. “And I don’t need _your_ money.”

 

In Tony’s experience, there are exactly two kinds of people in the world—the ones who want to use him for his money and connections, and the ones who are determined _not_ to do that. He’s already figured out where Bruce lands.

 

“Okay, cool,” Tony replies carelessly. Contrary to popular opinion, he _does_ know when to let things go. “Then you can take me out to dinner tonight.”

 

Bruce stares at him. “We’ve been up for two days straight!”

 

“And I’m starving, and I’m pretty sure they’re going to be kind of pissed off if we skip the awards dinner tomorrow,” Tony says. “While _I_ certainly don’t care, I figured you might.”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “I guess, if you want. I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep right away anyway.”

 

They wind up at the same pizzeria they’d eaten at the first day they’d met, and Tony lets Bruce buy. He’s starting to crash from the post-win high, and he’s trying really hard not to think about the fact that, in two days’ time, camp will be over, and he might never see Bruce again.

 

“We’ll stay in touch, right?” Tony says, suddenly unhappy at the thought.

 

Bruce looks half-asleep as he chews. “Hm?”

 

“We’re going to stay in touch,” Tony insists. “I mean, I’m going back to boarding school, and you’re going home or whatever, but we can call and write. It won’t be the same, I know, but—”

 

Bruce seems to gain a little alertness as Tony speaks. “Hey,” Bruce says, interrupting him. “The last two weeks have been the best of my life, okay? We’ll stay in touch. I promise.”

 

Tony tries to hide his relief. “Okay, good, because I know where you live. Or, actually, I don’t know, but I’m kind of hoping you’ll tell me.”

 

Bruce smiles. “Address, phone number, the whole nine yards. Hell, you can even visit me on a break or something. My aunt will be thrilled I made a friend.”

 

“My mom, too,” Tony admits. “And, you know, you can visit me, too, although it’s usually just me, and it kind of sucks.”

 

“Then you should definitely visit me,” Bruce replies with a shy smile. “I mean, it’s not a mansion, but I’ve got space on the floor.”

 

Tony thinks about how much he’s going to miss knowing Bruce is on the other side of the room, and the floor doesn’t sound too bad. “That sounds great.”

 

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Bruce admits.

 

And Tony thinks that maybe he might get to keep this.


	2. Los Angeles, California, Winter 1984/1985

Bruce scrubs the pot that his aunt had used for the rice and ignores Jen’s whining. “You are so slow!” she protests.

 

“And you are so annoying,” Bruce replies with a grin.

 

Jen reaches into the sink and flicks the suds into his face. “There’s me being annoying.”

 

Bruce tries to hide his grin, and flicks her back.

 

Jen ducks and snaps her towel at him.

 

“Kids! Are you doing the dishes?” Aunt Elaine calls.

 

Bruce shares a mischievous grin with Jen. “Yes, Mom!” Jen calls.

 

“Don’t let Morris catch you playing around,” she replies.

 

Bruce and Jen grimace at each other, and then start to laugh. Bruce hands her the pot. “Dry that, brat.”

 

“Bite me, brain,” she replies, sticking her tongue out.

 

“Like you can talk,” Bruce teases. “You’re just as much of a brain.”

 

“I just hide it better,” Jen replies.

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t hide the fact that you’re smart, Jen. You should strut.”

 

“Oh, is that what _Tony_ says?” Jen asks.

 

“Shut up.” Bruce rolls his eyes. He’s received one phone call and two letters from Tony since they’d parted at science camp, enough to know that neither of them do phone conversations well, and written communication isn’t much better.

 

Someday, maybe, they’ll be able to communicate electronically, nearly instantaneously, but until that happens, they’ll have to put up with intermittent communications

 

That doesn’t mean they aren’t friends, though. Bruce has been following Tony’s advice and charging for tutoring services, and he’s making good money. He’s making enough that he’ll do okay when he goes off to college, even if he has to take a part time job to make up the difference.

 

He hears the phone ring, and his aunt calls out, “I’ve got it!”

 

His uncle is working late again, so he’s not around to complain about the phone distracting him from his work, or Bruce and Jen squabbling. And really, Bruce likes his uncle well enough, but Bruce recognizes how tentative his position here is.

 

Aunt Elaine accepts Bruce wholeheartedly, and Bruce suspects that she feels guilty, because it was her brother who had killed his wife and abused Bruce. Uncle Morris is the sheriff, so he accepts Bruce’s presence, and appreciates the fact that Bruce works hard and gets good grades, but doesn’t pay much attention to him otherwise.

 

Bruce will take disinterest over fists any day of the week.

 

“Bruce? It’s for you,” his aunt calls. “It’s Tony.”

 

Bruce blinks, surprised. “Oh, okay.” He quickly dries his hands and takes the phone from his aunt, wishing it weren’t in the kitchen, where anybody could hear his side of the conversation, or that he could get some privacy.

 

Jen is making an exaggerated kissy face at him when Bruce takes the phone, and he deliberately turns his back on her. “Hi.”

 

“Bruce, hey,” Tony replies, his voice immediately recognizable.

 

“What’s up?” Bruce asks, trying to ignore Jen’s rendition of “Bruce and Tony sitting in a tree.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“What’s what?”

 

“It sounds like someone singing.”

 

Bruce sighs. “It’s my cousin. Ignore her. I do. Frequently.”

 

Tony snorts. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

 

“Love you, too, loser!” Jen calls.

 

“So, what’s up?” Bruce asks, trying valiantly to ignore her.

 

Tony sounds uncharacteristically hesitant when he says, “My folks are in L.A. for New Year’s, and they’re having a house party or something. I _need_ to get out of here.”

 

“You want to come stay with me?” Bruce hazards.

 

“Can I?”

 

Bruce thinks of the monotony of winter vacation broken up by Tony’s presence. “Yes. I mean, I have to check with my aunt, but that would be great. If you could come.”

 

He winces at his own awkwardness.

 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Tony says, sounding just as awkward.

 

“Just, um, give me a second,” Bruce says, putting a hand over the phone. “Aunt Elaine?”

 

She appears from around the corner, and Bruce appreciates that she’d given him the illusion of privacy. “Yes?”

 

“Can Tony come stay for a couple of days?” Abruptly, Bruce realizes that he has no idea how long Tony _can_ stay, or even how long he’d _want_ to stay. “He’s home on a school break.”

 

“Home” is probably not entirely accurate, given that the Starks have at least two houses that Bruce knows of, plus at least one villa or something somewhere. Tony had mentioned it once, in an offhand way that made Bruce think that having any number of places that might be considered “home” at any given time was normal for him.

 

He glances around the kitchen, at the faded wallpaper and appliances that haven’t been updated for at least a decade, at the scarred linoleum floor and ancient wooden table that had been passed down from Walters to Walters.

 

Bruce suddenly wonders if asking Tony to stay with them, or letting Tony stay, isn’t a really bad idea—but the damage is done.

 

Aunt Elaine frowns. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, although he’ll have to sleep in your room.” She leaves unsaid the fact that Tony will either have to sleep on the floor, or that Bruce will. “I’ll need to speak to one of his parents, though.”

 

That might present a greater obstacle, Bruce thinks.

 

“Aunt Elaine says yes, but she has to speak to one of your parents,” Bruce says.

 

There’s a long pause, and Bruce wonders if Tony’s even going to be able to get his mom or dad on the phone.

 

“Yeah, hang on,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce nearly suggests that Tony call him back later, to save on the phone call, but then remembers that the Starks could probably eat the cost of a hundred international calls without batting an eyelash.

 

“Okay, I’ve got my mom,” Tony says, and Bruce hands the phone to his aunt.

 

He hovers by the sink, meaning to wash the remaining dishes, but he’s too busy listening to his aunt’s side of the call. She seems somewhat bemused, and asks whether they need to pick Tony up, or meet them halfway, and then she says, “We’d love to have him for however long Tony can stay.”

 

Bruce thinks that might mean that Tony is staying for the rest of his break, or at least the rest of Bruce’s, and he feels both elation and anxiety.

 

Elation, because the two weeks he’d spent at MIT with Tony had been amazing; anxiety, because it might not be the same now. Maybe things will be different.

 

His aunt holds out the phone, and Bruce takes it. “Hello?”

 

“I can stay with you until I have to go back to school, right after New Year’s,” Tony says. “That’s okay, right?”

 

Bruce squashes whatever worry he might feel. He has no idea what they’re going to do for the next six days, but this is Tony. They’re going to be fine. “It’s really great,” he replies.

 

“Okay,” Tony says, relief in his voice. “I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”

 

Bruce hangs up the phone and looks at his aunt. “Uncle Morris is going to be okay with this, right?”

 

Aunt Elaine laughs a little at that, and ruffles his hair and brushes her lips against his forehead. “You let me worry about your uncle. You just focus on having a good time with your friend.”

 

Jen is still murmuring, “Bruce and Tony, sitting in a tree,” when he goes back to finish the dishes. He retaliates by flicking water in her face, and resolutely _doesn’t_ think about all the ways this visit could go wrong.

 

~~~~~

 

Christmas this year had been pretty decent, since it had just been Tony, his parents, and Jarvis. His dad spent most of the day holed up in his office dealing with some emergency—or maybe just pretending to deal with an emergency to get out of spending time with his family—but Tony and his mom had opened presents and enjoyed a nice dinner.

 

But his dad’s friends and business associates had begun arriving the next day, which means Tony’s mom is busy playing the gracious hostess, and his dad alternates between ignoring Tony and trotting him out like a prize show pony.

 

 _That’s_ the part Tony hates most of all, because it’s not like his dad is actually proud of him. Showing Tony off is just a way of letting people know that the future of Stark Industries is secure, and there’s an appropriate heir waiting in the wings.

 

Tony often thinks that’s really all he is to his dad—a tool to ensure that the company will continue after his death, which probably won’t be until Tony is an old man.

 

He honestly doesn’t think he can endure the next week until he goes back to school, and then he remembers that Bruce lives in Los Angeles.

 

Maybe he has a place to go after all.

 

Tony is a little surprised when Bruce’s aunt insists on speaking to one of his parents, but then he’s never really had friends, at least not outside of school.

 

At least his mom seems to understand that Tony needs to get out of here, and Tony listens to her side of the conversation as she talks to Bruce’s aunt.

 

“No, of course we can drop him off and pick him up,” his mom says. “Are you sure it’s no trouble if he stays with you?”

 

Tony winces, knowing he probably shouldn’t have invited himself, but he doesn’t feel too guilty about that. You don’t get anywhere in life if you don’t go after what you want, and Tony wants to spend some time with Bruce.

 

“Thank you,” his mom says. “I’m just so glad that Tony made a friend.”

 

Tony blushes, feeling about five years old. It’s a relief when he can get back on the phone with Bruce, and he dismisses any awkwardness as an unfortunate side effect of telephone conversations.

 

“The day after tomorrow is the best I can do,” his mom says with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

 

“It’s okay,” Tony insists. “It’s just nice to know that I’ll be at Bruce’s soon.”

 

His mom glances around. “Come on,” she says conspiratorially. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”

 

They sit in the kitchen, eating ice cream right out of the container, which Tony doesn’t think she does except when he’s home, and then she always has his favorite kind.

 

“You haven’t said much about Bruce,” his mom says quietly.

 

Tony shrugs. “He was my roommate at camp, and my partner for the final competition. He’s pretty great.”

 

His mom licks her spoon. “That doesn’t tell me much. He lives with his aunt?”

 

“Aunt, uncle, cousin,” Tony replies. “Something pretty terrible happened to his mom and dad.”

 

His mom takes another bite. “Did something pretty terrible happen to Bruce, too?”

 

“He had a nightmare while we were at camp,” Tony admits. He can tell his mom a lot of stuff, and he likes it when she listens like this, like Tony is the most important person in her world. He wouldn’t tell just anybody Bruce’s secrets, but he knows his mom won’t say anything to anybody.

 

His mom reaches across the table to rest her hand against his cheek. “Then he was lucky you were there for him.”

 

Tony looks away. “You don’t know that.”

 

“I know _you_ ,” she counters. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend.”

 

Tony shrugs. “He doesn’t care about money or anything. He just likes science.”

 

“Those people can be hard to find,” his mom replies.

 

“Maria!” his dad calls, coming into the kitchen. He frowns when he sees her and Tony. “What are you doing?”

 

His mom winks at Tony. “Just taking a little break for ice cream.”

 

“Well, get in here,” his dad replies. “Tony, are you coming?”

 

“Tony’s in the middle of a project right now,” his mom says. “He’ll have dinner with us later.”

 

Tony gives her a grateful look, and she smiles. “Just hang in there another day,” she whispers before she follows his dad out.

 

Just a day, Tony thinks. He can hang on for that long.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce hadn’t needed to worry about what his uncle would say. When Aunt Elaine calmly announces over dinner the following night that Tony would be visiting them for a few days, Uncle Morris asks, “Who’s that?”

 

“Tony was my roommate at camp,” Bruce replies, unable to help the frisson of fear.

 

He _knows_ his uncle would never raise a hand to him or Jen, but that doesn’t stop the trepidation.

 

Uncle Morris frowns. “Tony Stark? Howard Stark’s son?”

 

“Yeah, it’s that Tony,” Bruce admits.

 

Uncle Morris chews thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, that’s certainly a connection worth cultivating.”

 

Bruce swallows. “It’s not like that. He’s a friend.”

 

His uncle gives him a sharp look, and then unbends enough to smile. “There are times when friends are all a man has in life, Bruce. You never know when you’ll need someone to help you bury a body,” he adds with a wink.

 

Bruce doesn’t like to think about that—he doesn’t like to think about using Tony, since he’s pretty sure people do that enough already—but that’s just how his uncle thinks. As the sheriff, and an elected official, a big part of his job is political.

 

“And he might be the one in need of _your_ services,” Uncle Morris says.

 

Bruce thinks about the quiet desperation in Tony’s voice on the phone, and he relaxes. “Yeah, well, I think he needed a break over the holiday.”

 

“Have you thought about what you might like to do while he’s here?” Aunt Elaine asks.

 

Bruce winces. Without access to the labs, maybe Tony will get bored. “Not really.”

 

“I can probably let you borrow the car while he’s here,” his aunt offers, since Bruce had just gotten his license a couple of weeks ago. “Maybe you could take Jen to the mall to meet up with her friends.”

 

Jen perks up at that. “Really? They’ll be _so jealous_ that Tony Stark is staying with us!”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “He’s not going to want you fawning all over him.”

 

She sticks her tongue out at him.

 

“That’s enough,” Uncle Morris says. “I trust you’ll act like the mature young lady you are while he’s here.”

 

Jen flushes at the faint disapproval in his voice, and the insinuation that Uncle Morris doesn’t think she’s capable of it. “I will.”

 

As much as Jen irritates him sometimes, Bruce hates it when her enthusiasm gets squashed like that. “Tony’s going to really like you,” he promises in a whisper as his aunt and uncle move on to another topic.

 

Jen manages a smile. “I’ll try not to bother you.”

 

“Like you could,” Bruce teases, and is pleased when she grins at him.

 

Of course, then she says, “Challenge accepted,” and he knows he’s in trouble.

 

Bruce doesn’t sleep much that night, feeling too much anticipation. He and his aunt pull one of the foam mattresses they take camping when the ground is cold—not that they go camping all that often. Between that, and the sleeping bags, and the pile of blankets, Tony should be comfortable, and if he’s not, Bruce will switch with him.

 

He feels a little strange at the idea of Tony sleeping in his bed, although he can’t put his finger on why it matters.

 

Bruce wakes up early, and the hours creep by so slowly he’s ready to swear that time is actually moving backward.

 

“Bruce and Tony, sitting in a tree,” Jen sings as she walks past him.

 

Bruce buries his head in his physics book, because what he _wants_ to say would just get him into trouble with his aunt, and he doesn’t want to risk her rescinding Tony’s invitation.

 

Not that she would, he doesn’t think, but it’s best not to tempt fate.

 

“Jen, that’s enough of that!” his aunt calls from the kitchen. “Bruce could refuse to take you to the mall, you know.”

 

Jen looks outraged. “But I promised Shelby!”

 

“I’ll leave it up to Bruce,” his aunt says, sticking her head out of the kitchen and giving Bruce a conspiratorial smile.

 

Jen’s attempt to annoy him turns abruptly into wide, imploring green eyes and a trembling lower lip. “Bruce, please?”

 

Bruce is not above being a little bit of an asshole. “I don’t know. I guess that depends on whether you annoy me. Or Tony. Maybe I’ll leave it up to him.”

 

She scowls. “Now you’re just being mean.”

 

“I guess you’ll only find out if you’re nice to me,” Bruce replies.

 

Jen stomps off, and Bruce smirks. She’s easy to wind up these days, and he probably doesn’t resist nearly as much as he should.

 

He actually manages to fall asleep after lunch, his physics book heavy on his chest, waking only when Jen turns on the television. “I don’t care if you’re sleeping,” she announces when Bruce startles awake. “I have shows to watch.”

 

“Tony should be here soon,” Bruce says, and hears the crunch of tires on the driveway. “Speak of the devil.”

 

His eyes widen when he sees the limo pull up, but he probably shouldn’t have expected anything different.

 

The driver gets out and opens Tony’s door for him, and then pulls his bag out of the trunk.

 

Bruce rubs his hands on his jeans and opens the door, stepping out onto the front porch. “Hey,” he calls.

 

Tony takes his bag from the driver and gives a little salute. “Thanks,” he says, and bounds up the steps. “Bruce!”

 

Bruce has no idea which of them initiates it, but a second later they’re in a rough embrace, pounding each other on the back.

 

“Good to see you, man,” Tony says into Bruce’s ear. “Seriously, you do not know how bad I needed a break.”

 

“I’m glad you could come,” Bruce admits, feeling shy. “Come in.”

 

His aunt comes out of the kitchen, smiling. “You must be Tony.”

 

“This is my aunt, Elaine Walters,” Bruce says, summoning up his manners.

 

Tony sticks out a hand and turns up the charm to full-wattage. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

Bruce has yet to run into anyone immune to Tony’s charm, and his aunt is no exception. Then again, he’s pretty sure his aunt is inclined to like anybody Bruce calls a friend, as he has so few of them.

 

“I’m glad you could come,” Aunt Elaine replies with a smile. “I hope you’re hungry. Dinner should be ready in an hour or so.”

 

“Whatever it is smells amazing,” Tony says sincerely.

 

His aunt smiles. “Bruce can show you where to put your things.”

 

“Where’s that cousin you told me about?” Tony asks in a low voice.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Probably hiding. Aunt Elaine said she’s hitting a weird age. Either she’ll avoid you because she’s feeling shy, or she’ll be all over you. There’s no middle ground, so fair warning.”

 

Tony grins. “Hey, I’ve never had a kid sister. I’m sure it’s great.”

 

“Yeah, unless she’s annoying the hell out of you,” Bruce replies.

 

He’s acutely aware of the faded blue walls of his room, the scarred, second-hand furniture, and the battered bookshelf. “It’s not much. We brought out the mattress, but if it’s too uncomfortable, you can take the bed.”

 

“Bruce,” Tony says, breaking into his prepared speech. “This is great. You could have made me sleep outside, and it still would have been great, because I would be out of the house.”

 

Bruce sits down on the edge of his bed. “Is it really that bad?”

 

Tony throws himself down on the nest of blankets and wriggles as though getting comfortable, and then he lets out a long sigh. “This really _is_ great. And no, it’s not _that_ bad. It’s just that my dad has people over, and he trots me out like a prize pony to impress all his friends and prove Stark Industries has a future.”

 

“What about your mom?” Bruce asks, suddenly curious, since Tony doesn’t talk about her much.

 

A smile softens Tony’s expression. “She’s great when she’s around, which isn’t much. She does a lot of charity work, and if Dad has his business associates there, she’s entertaining them or their wives.”

 

“They don’t bring their kids?” Bruce asks, a little surprised.

 

Tony shakes his head. “That’s what they have nannies for.”

 

Bruce blinks, unable to imagine that. “Who do you stay with? I mean, who do you hang out with?”

 

“I mostly work on my own projects,” Tony replies. “Or I go bug Jarvis.”

 

Bruce knows Jarvis is the Starks’ butler, and he’s reminded yet again of how they come from different worlds.

 

“Is your uncle around?” Tony asks, apparently deciding to change the subject.

 

“He works a lot,” Bruce replies, collapsing back onto the bed. “Which is fine. I mean, he’s nice and all, he’s just—the sheriff.”

 

Tony grins. “Makes it hard to really go wild with him around, huh?”

 

“Not that I want to go wild, but yeah.” Bruce debates giving Tony a heads up, and then decides he owes it to him. “He, um, he thinks it’s great that we’re friends. Because of your dad.”

 

Tony doesn’t look fazed. “Consummate politician, huh?”

 

Bruce lets out a sigh of relief. “Pretty much.”

 

“He’s not you,” Tony says carelessly. “I know you’re not like that.”

 

“No, not really,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony sits up suddenly. “Oh, hey, I almost forgot. I have a present for you.”

 

Bruce frowns. “You didn’t have to.”

 

“It’s nothing special,” Tony assures him. “It’s just something I put together.”

 

Bruce hadn’t gotten Tony anything, and hadn’t known that they were doing that sort of thing. “I didn’t—”

 

“Your present to me is letting me stay here,” Tony says, cutting Bruce off with an accurate guess as to what he’d planned on saying. “Here.”

 

Tony’s gift is unwrapped, and is about the size of a textbook in a gunmetal gray.

 

Bruce takes it and finds a seam along one side. He lifts up and removes a cover, finding a keyboard and a small screen.

 

“On its face, it’s just a calculator,” Tony says, sitting down next to Bruce, careless of personal space as usual. “But it’s so much more! You can keep track of homework, appointments, test schedules, whatever. And it will do much more complicated equations than your typical calculator.”

 

Bruce finds the power button and turns it on, and the very basic screen reads, “Hi, Bruce.”

 

“I’m still working on it,” Tony says. “There’s not a ton of memory at this point, but I figured you could use something to double check your equations. I mean, it’s not like I think you need it really, I just thought—”

 

Bruce turns to him, and his expression shuts Tony down. “This is the most amazing present I’ve ever gotten.”

 

Tony’s smile is genuine, and Bruce knows the difference. “Really?”

 

“Really.” Bruce turns it towards Tony. “What else can it do?”

 

~~~~~

 

Tony is showing Bruce all the features of his new extraordinary calculator when a girl sticks her head in. “Mom said to tell you to wash up for dinner.”

 

Tony feels a moment of alarm. He hadn’t brought anything other than casual clothing. “Do I need to change?”

 

Bruce frowns, and then laughs, although not in a mean way. “No, she just means we should wash our hands. That’s all.”

 

“What did you think I meant?” the girl asks.

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Tony, my cousin. Jen, Tony Stark. Tony’s just used to a little more formality than we are.”

 

Tony figures that’s about the nicest way anyone’s put it. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says.

 

Jen disappears without saying anything else, and Bruce shrugs. “Told you she was going through a weird phase.”

 

Tony shrugs. “She seems nice enough.”

 

“She is,” Bruce agrees with a fond smile. “When she’s not annoying me, she’s great. Come on, let’s wash up.”

 

It’s not like Tony has to dress up for dinner often; most of the times, his parents are gone, and he eats by himself—if he’s home. When he’s at boarding school, he wears his uniform.

 

Eating with Bruce’s family is different. He and Bruce share the sink as they wash their hands, and Mrs. Walters has dinner on the table—a large pan of lasagna, a big bowl of salad, and a foil-wrapped loaf of garlic bread.

 

“This smells amazing, Mrs. Walters,” Tony says as he sits down.

 

Bruce’s aunt smiles at him. “Thank you. You can call me Elaine.”

 

Tony had hoped he could get Bruce’s aunt and uncle to like him, and it looks like he’s well on his way, at least with his aunt.

 

The lasagna is delicious, and Tony devours his portion, mopping up stray bits of sauce with a piece of garlic bread.

 

“Do you want more?” Elaine asks.

 

Tony hesitates, not wanting to be rude.

 

Bruce picks up his plate and Tony’s and passes them to his aunt. “He definitely does,” Bruce says.

 

“Thanks,” Tony adds. “It really is good.”

 

Elaine looks pleased. “Someone asking for seconds is the best compliment I could get.”

 

They’re cleaning their plates for the second time when the front door opens, and Elaine gets up. “Go ahead and finish eating.”

 

Tony glances over at Bruce, who mouths, “My uncle.”

 

The fact that Bruce’s uncle is a politician actually makes it easier for Tony to know how to deal with him. Tony has been dealing with politicians his whole life, and he knows what to say and how to say it.

 

Bruce’s uncle is a tall, spare man with a square jaw and dark hair going gray at the temples. He looks like a sheriff straight out of central casting.

 

Tony gets to his feet, and Elaine says, “Morris, this is Tony Stark.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sheriff Walters,” Tony says, holding out a hand.

 

Walters’ grip is firm and warm. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Bruce has talked about you a lot.”

 

Bruce looks vaguely embarrassed when Tony looks at him.

 

“Thank you for letting me stay, sir,” Tony replies. “I really appreciate it.”

 

“It’s good for Bruce to have a friend,” Walters replies.

 

Tony notices that Walters doesn’t invite the same informality that Bruce’s aunt had, and he knows better than to assume it. “I could say the same,” Tony replies.

 

Walters sits down to eat and asks, “What are you boys planning on doing while you’re here?”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Probably just hang out.”

 

“Well, if you need spending money, just let me know,” Walters says.

 

Bruce shifts in his chair, like he’s embarrassed he might need money.

 

“How come I can’t get an advance on my allowance?” Jen asks with the hint of a whine.

 

Walters frowns at her. “Jennifer, what have I said about whining?”

 

Jen flushes and stares down at her plate, and Tony feels a stab of sympathy.

 

“May we be excused?” Bruce asks in a rush.

 

Elaine nods. “Go ahead. Don’t worry about the dishes tonight. I’ll take care of it.”

 

Tony follows Bruce into his bedroom, and Bruce shuts the door behind them. He hears another door close down the hall, and sees Bruce wince.

 

“That happen a lot?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “He’s kind of hard on her sometimes.”

 

“I see what you mean about him being the sheriff,” Tony says.

 

Bruce sits down on the bed. “Yeah, well. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just—”

 

“The sheriff?” Tony suggests.

 

Bruce lies back on his bed. “Fair warning, Jen will probably be here in a few minutes.”

 

“It’s cool,” Tony says easily. In truth, he kind of wishes he had someone like Bruce to run to when his dad is being an asshole.

 

Come to think of it, that’s exactly what he’d done.

 

“I’m sorry if it’s kind of boring here,” Bruce says. “I mean, we have an Atari, and Uncle Morris got us a VHS player for Christmas, so we can watch movies, but—”

 

Tony pokes Bruce in the side to get him to stop talking. “I’ll be fine. I’m here with you, right? We can always make a supply run to the nearest electronics store. We could build something. Or we could go see a movie. I haven’t had a chance to see _Dune_ yet.”

 

Bruce relaxes a bit. “I just don’t want you to be bored.”

 

Tony pokes him again. “I’m not going to be bored with _you_. Or, to rephrase, I’d far rather be bored _with_ you than without you.”

 

“Stop that,” Bruce says, laughing.

 

“What? Are you ticklish?” Tony asks and tries to poke him again.

 

Bruce slaps his hand away, and when Tony tries again, he tackles Tony on his nest of blankets, attempting to return the favor.

 

They wrestle, neither of them gaining the upper hand, both of them breathless with laughter, until there’s a timid knock on the door, and they freeze.

 

Tony feels a little strange, like they’ve been caught doing something wrong, although he’s not sure why. It’s just _Bruce_.

 

Bruce sits up and straightens his shirt, running a hand through his hair. “Come in.”

 

Jen sticks her head in. “Sorry.”

 

“No, come in,” Bruce replies, his voice gentle. “It’s okay.”

 

“I won’t bite,” Tony adds with a wink.

 

That actually gets a small smile out of her, but Tony can see that she’s been crying. It seems like a silly thing to cry about, since Walters hadn’t been _that_ harsh, but maybe it had something to do with getting reprimanded in front of a stranger.

 

Jen plops down next to Bruce and leans into his side. “It’s stupid. _I’m_ stupid.”

 

Bruce taps her on the nose. “Not even close. You want to see what Tony made for me?”

 

Jen smirks. “You made something for Bruce?”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Shut up, brat. Do you want to see it or not?”

 

Tony envies their closeness, and the way Bruce looks out for her.

 

He’s less thrilled by Jen’s response to the super-cool calculator that Tony had built. “You two are such _nerds_ ,” she says.

 

“I’m not a nerd!” Tony protests. “I’m awesome.”

 

“You’re a well-camouflaged nerd,” Jen admits. “But you built Bruce a _calculator_. All he needs is the pocket-protector to go with it.”

 

“Just for that,” Bruce says, and starts to tickle her.

 

She lets out a shriek. “No! Bruce!”

 

“Take it back,” Bruce replies with a grin as she squirms. “We’re not nerds.”

 

She laughs breathlessly. “Taking it back doesn’t make it any less true!”

 

“Say uncle!” Bruce says.

 

“Uncle! Uncle!” Jen finally yells. “You’re very cool!”

 

Bruce releases her with a satisfied grin. “And don’t you forget it.”

 

Tony’s surprised by the raw envy he feels. He knows Bruce’s life isn’t perfect; he knows Bruce has gone through some serious shit. But he’s got an aunt who makes incredible dinners, and an uncle who at least seems to give a damn, even if he’s kind of an asshole.

 

And he’s got the next thing to a kid sister who may annoy the hell out of him, but who comes to Bruce when she wants to feel better.

 

“Come on, let’s play a game or something,” Jen says. “I’ll bet Mom would even let you go to the video rental place to rent a movie if you asked.”

 

Elaine does let them borrow her car to go rent a movie, and there’s a brief, heated argument over what they’re going to rent. Jen wants some stupid comedy, and Tony and Bruce both want _Star Wars_ , so there’s really not much in the way of compromise.

 

Tony ends the heated debate by offering to pay the rental price for both of them, over Bruce’s protests. “Aunt Elaine gave me money.”

 

“Yeah, and she fed me dinner, so I’m reciprocating,” Tony says. “I want to see _Star Wars_ , Jen wants to see _The Shaggy, D.A._ , and this way everybody wins.”

 

“Except for us when we’re forced to _watch_ that movie,” Bruce mutters.

 

Tony puts an arm over Bruce’s shoulders. “We can make fun of it the entire time, I promise.”

 

~~~~~

 

The thing is, Bruce can imagine how awesome his life would be if Tony were around all the time. He can imagine sleepovers every weekend, and study sessions in the library, and trips to the theater and the mall.

 

His aunt had loaned Bruce her car so they could take Jen to the mall to meet up with her friends, and while they do their thing, he and Tony wander.

 

“Is this how normal people live?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce laughs. “I don’t know. You’re not really talking to a normal person.”

 

“Okay, and I can see why you’d say that,” Tony replies. “But aside from your brilliance, and the dark past, you’re pretty damn normal.”

 

Bruce smiles, looking down at the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets. No one has ever thought of him as _normal_ , and it’s nice. _Really_ nice. It’s what he’s always wanted to be, ever since he can remember. “Thanks.”

 

“I mean it in the best possible way,” Tony says quickly, apparently thinking that he’s offended Bruce.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I just—always wanted to be normal, and I never was.” He looks at Tony out of the corner of his eye. “It probably would take someone like Tony Stark, genius billionaire, to think that I was anywhere close to it.”

 

Tony’s shoulder bumps his. “I know you think you’re some freak, that you’ve got this huge sign on your back advertising how you’re completely fucked up, but you don’t.”

 

“Everybody knows something freaky is going on with me,” Bruce argues. “I live with my aunt and uncle, and I’m smarter than anybody else.”

 

“But when you get to college, none of that is going to matter,” Tony replies earnestly. “And if you go to MIT—”

 

“I’m not,” Bruce says in a rush, knowing that was going to come up eventually. “I’m sorry.”

 

Tony stops. “You know already?”

 

“I got early acceptance into Culver,” Bruce says quietly. “MIT offered me a scholarship, but Culver offered me a better one, and they have a better nuclear physics program. I—I had to take it.”

 

Tony is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Well, I’m not going to pretend that I’m not disappointed. I kind of loved the idea of us taking on MIT together in another year.”

 

“So did I,” Bruce admits. “Tony, I—”

 

“Don’t,” Tony says sharply. “Don’t ever apologize for making a decision that’s right for you. You deserve to be happy, and if this makes you happy, then I’m all for it.”

 

Bruce feels miserable, feeling as though he’d dashed Tony’s hopes.

 

“Hey,” Tony says softly, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Boston and Virginia are both on the east coast. They aren’t that far away. We can still see each other. We could meet halfway on breaks, when you can’t fly home.”

 

“I wish we could go to school together,” Bruce says in a rush. “I wish—I wish we could spend every weekend together.”

 

Tony smiles wistfully. “Yeah, me too. I’m pretty sure I’d rather go to public school with you than go back to Phillips for my last semester, or that you could come with me.”

 

Bruce wishes he could _do_ something, although he doesn’t know what that would be. What he feels for Tony isn’t normal, and Bruce shoves it aside. “Same here,” he admits, figuring that isn’t a big deal. “You want to go in the music store?”

 

“Sure,” Tony says. “I could poke around. I think there’s been some decent stuff released, and I haven’t had a chance to browse for a while.”

 

Bruce doesn’t have a lot of opinions on music, although he’ll turn the radio on sometimes when he’s doing homework, just to have the background noise. Tony, though—Tony has thoughts on pretty much every artist out there, and he’s happy to talk in detail.

 

And okay, Bruce could pretty much listen to Tony talk all day, but he knows better than to say as much.

 

He doesn’t mind when Tony talks about the Ramones, and how much he likes their early work, and Black Sabbath and how much he likes “Iron Man.”

 

Later— _years_ later, _lifetimes_ later—Bruce will look back on that conversation and laugh at the appropriateness of it all. At least, he’ll laugh when his relationship with Tony is back on even footing, and when they’re friends again.

 

At that very moment, though, all Bruce thinks about is Tony, and the way he talks about music, animated and enthusiastic, in a way that he usually reserves for science.

 

Tony slaps a cassette against his palm. “No, seriously, this is awesome.”

 

“I believe you,” Bruce protests. “I just don’t really listen to a lot of music.”

 

Tony gives him a look. “I would have pegged you as a classical music kind of guy.”

 

“Then why are you trying to sell me on hard rock?” Bruce asks, amused.

 

“Just broadening your horizons,” Tony protests. “And if you don’t have a lot of preferences, even better. I can bring you over to the dark side.”

 

Bruce thinks of waking from his nightmare to hear the hard rock station, and thinks it wouldn’t take much. When he hears one of Tony’s preferred bands, he thinks of Tony, and that night, and that’s not a bad association to have.

 

He plucks the cassette out of Tony’s hand. “Just for you, man.”

 

Bruce has some money that he got for Christmas, and he buys Black Sabbath’s _Paranoid_ because if nothing else, he can listen to it and remember Tony.

 

“I’ll have to listen to this when my uncle isn’t around,” Bruce admits. “He hates hard rock.”

 

Tony looks delighted. “Let me guess: he’s a Sinatra fan.”

 

“Something like that,” Bruce admits.

 

“How much time do we have before we have to pick Jen up?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce looks at his watch. “Enough time to hit the electronics store, if you still want to.”

 

“Oh, I think we need to build a better machine, Bruce,” Tony replies, clapping him on the shoulder. “Lead the way.”

 

~~~~~

 

The truth is, Tony’s never had a better school break. Other than Bruce’s uncle, there are no high ranking officials, no businessmen, no politicians. Bruce’s aunt cooks dinner every night, and even though Bruce’s uncle isn’t around most of the time, they all sit down to eat together in the evening.

 

After that first night, Tony helps clear the table, and do the dishes, and once, Elaine enlists his and Bruce’s help with dinner.

 

Bruce laughs at Tony’s lack of skills in the kitchen, but Tony doesn’t mind. Elaine thanks him for his help, and Tony feels a helpless affection for her, especially when she shows the same sort of easy affection she does for Bruce—ruffling Tony’s hair and kissing his forehead.

 

Tony feels as though he’s stepped into some sitcom, although the family dynamics are a little more complicated than usual.

 

And it feels _good_ to have someone who asks where they’re going, and to tell them when they need to be back. It feels good to fall asleep on the floor only a couple of feet away from Bruce, knowing that he could call out, and Bruce would be right there.

 

When he hears Bruce start to have a nightmare, Tony doesn’t hesitate to climb into bed with him, even though Bruce had warned him not to touch him.

 

“Come on,” Tony says quietly. “It’s okay. Don’t make me turn on the hard rock station. Your uncle might not appreciate that.”

 

Bruce wakes with a gasp. “Tony?”

 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Tony says, pulling Bruce closer. “I’m here.”

 

Bruce pushes his face against the side of Tony’s neck. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t,” Tony orders. “You say that word way too much.”

 

Bruce huffs a laugh. “And you probably don’t say it enough.”

 

“Probably not,” Tony admits. “Is this okay?”

 

“More than,” Bruce replies. “Thanks.”

 

“You say that too much, too,” Tony replies.

 

Somehow, he and Bruce slot together on Bruce’s narrow bed, with Bruce’s back pressed to Tony’s front.

 

Tony hopes that he doesn’t pop wood really inconveniently, because he’s not going to be able to hide it the way Bruce would, given their relative positions.

 

And then Bruce turns over so that his forehead is pressed against Tony’s shoulder, which removes a lot of the temptation.

 

They curl up next to each other, Bruce’s head against Tony’s neck, their knees overlapping, their hands on the other’s hips.

 

Tony fists his hand in the back of the threadbare t-shirt Bruce wears to bed, and he holds on tight.

 

“You should come to Malibu this summer,” Tony whispers. “We can go surfing together.”

 

“I don’t know how to surf,” Bruce admits. “I’ve never been.”

 

Tony snorts. “A California boy like you?”

 

“Technically, I’m from Ohio,” Bruce replies. “That’s where I was born, anyway.”

 

“Then I’ll teach you,” Tony promises. “It’s a piece of cake.”

 

Bruce laughs. “I suck at that sort of thing.”

 

“It’s mostly just a way to pick up girls.” Tony knows he’s resolutely ignoring his attraction to Bruce—who is definitely not a girl—but he doesn’t see another choice. What he feels for Bruce isn’t safe, strictly speaking. They’re both still dependent on their families, both for support and for being able to spend time with each other.

 

Right now, Bruce’s aunt and uncle could forbid them from seeing one another, or Tony’s dad could do the same.

 

Girls are safer, at least for right now.

 

“I suck at that, too,” Bruce admits.

 

“But you like girls.” Tony keeps his voice low, hardly able to believe he’s actually asking.

 

Bruce huffs against his neck. “Theoretically, anyway.”

 

“I’ll be your wingman any time,” Tony says. “You and me.”

 

“Always,” Bruce promises.

 

Tony isn’t used to not getting what he wants when he wants it when he wants it, but he’s also not used to wanting the impossible.

 

They fall asleep like that, but Tony’s awakened by the first light, and he extricates himself carefully, burrowing into his nest of blankets on the floor. Bruce has had a rough enough time of it; Tony’s not going to make things more difficult for him if he can help it.

 

“Tony?” Bruce calls softly.

 

“Yeah, go back to sleep,” Tony replies. “We’re good.”

 

“Thanks,” Bruce says.

 

“I told you, you say that entirely too often,” Tony replies.

 

“It bears repeating.”

 

“Not by you,” Tony replies. “Not with me.”

 

Bruce smiles sleepily. “Noted.”

 

Tony doesn’t sleep after that, not really. He only has one more day before he has to leave, back to his boarding school on the east coast, while Bruce stays here.

 

The news that Bruce wouldn’t be attending MIT had been more of a blow than Tony is willing to admit, but now he thinks it might be for the best. He’s not sure he could hold out in the face of Bruce’s constant presence.

 

Tony can see him next summer, and occasionally during school breaks, and that will make things easier.

 

It’s always going to be him and Bruce. That’s never going to change.

 

The following day, they hang out and work on the remote controlled cars that Tony had purchased at the electronics store. Jen insists on staying in the same room, but she mostly lies on Bruce’s bed and reads a book, pausing occasionally to ask him the definition of a word, or read something out loud.

 

It’s no different than any other day Tony’s spent at Bruce’s place, and he’s content with Bruce and Jen, and Elaine asking what he wants to eat on his last night there, and if chicken bake is okay.

 

Tony has no idea what that is, but he’s liked everything else she’s made so far, so he doesn’t protest.

 

“We should play games tonight!” Jen says. “Like Monopoly.”

 

“I hate Monopoly,” Bruce complains. “We could play something else, though.”

 

Tony glances up. “Backgammon?”

 

“That’s only for two people,” Jen complains.

 

“We could play Go Fish,” Bruce offers.

 

Jen rolls her eyes. “That’s a kid game.”

 

“ _You’re_ a kid,” Bruce teases.

 

“I’m not a baby!” Jen protests hotly.

 

“What do you want to play then?” Tony asks, playing peacemaker, which is not a role he’s used to taking.

 

Jen thinks for a minute. “We could play Pitch.”

 

“Acceptable,” Bruce agrees.

 

Tony smirks, enjoying the spats between them more than he probably should.

 

They have a good time that night. The sheriff turns up halfway through dinner and actually plays cards with them, and he’s a little less competitive than Tony expects him to be. In fact, he thinks he catches the sheriff intentionally giving up a few points to let Jen win a hand, and he likes him better for it.

 

Bruce sleeps through the night, but Tony doesn’t. He’s restless, and keeps jerking awake, checking on Bruce.

 

When the light starts to brighten the room, Tony pulls on his clothes and creeps out of the room, Bruce still sleeping.

 

Elaine is in the kitchen already, and she smiles at him. “Did you not sleep?”

 

Tony shrugs. “I don’t always.”

 

“Are you excited to be going home?” she asks.

 

Tony hesitates. “I’m going back to school. It’s different.”

 

There’s sympathy in her eyes. “You know you can visit us any time you want, right? You’re always welcome here, Tony.”

 

“Thanks,” Tony replies, knowing that she means it. He doesn’t often get told that he’s welcome somewhere, and welcome for something other than who his father is. “Maybe Bruce can come visit me in Malibu this summer. I promised I’d teach him how to surf.”

 

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Elaine replies. “You’ve been good for him, you know.”

 

Tony is fairly sure this is the first time anybody has ever said that, too. “I could say the same.”

 

Elaine pauses to touch his cheek, looking like she’s about to say something, and then checks herself. “Then it’s good that you two found each other.”

 

He wonders what she’d say if she knew how he felt about Bruce, but thinks she might understand.

 

“Hey.” Bruce wanders out, still rumpled from sleep, and he leans against the kitchen counter next to Tony, wrapping a hand around his ankle companionably. “You’re up early.”

 

“You are, too,” Tony counters, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him.

 

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” Bruce complains.

 

Tony manages a smile. “Couldn’t sleep. No big deal.”

 

“Why don’t I make pancakes?” Elaine suggests. “Tony, if you haven’t packed yet, you might want to.”

 

Tony nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

 

Bruce follows him back to the bedroom, perching on the edge of his unmade bed. “I hate that you have to leave.”

 

“You can see me next summer,” Tony replies. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll be in Malibu at least part of the time, and I’ll teach you how to surf.”

 

Bruce nods, but Tony knows him well enough to sense how unhappy he is. “The summer seems like a long way off.”

 

“I’ll write.”

 

“No, you won’t,” Bruce replies, although he looks fond. “You’re terrible about writing.”

 

“Maybe I’ll send a carrier pigeon then,” Tony counters. “Or a robot.”

 

Bruce laughs. “I’d believe a robot.”

 

Tony looks at him, still in his pajama pants and _Star Wars_ t-shirt, his hair sleep-mussed and curling wildly, and feels so damn fond. “Promise you’ll visit this summer.”

 

“You promised to teach me how to surf,” Bruce replies. “I’m holding you to that.”

 

“You and me,” Tony promises.

 

And Bruce smiles, although his expression holds the edge of wistfulness. “Always.”


	3. Cambridge, Massachusetts/Willowdale, Virginia, Late Spring 1987

Bruce grimaces as he sips his now-cold coffee, and then gulps it all in one go, rubbing tired eyes as he tries to focus on his advanced organic chem lab report.

 

He’s only a few weeks away from finishing his junior year, but the work hasn’t let up; he needs sleep, but there’s no time.

 

The phone in his room rings, and Bruce ignores it. The ringing stops, and then starts up again a few seconds later, and Bruce finally gives in, picking up the receiver. “Banner.”

 

“You don’t call, you don’t write, I’m beginning to think you’ve completely forgotten about me.”

 

In spite of his exhaustion, and his stress level, Bruce smiles. “Tony.”

 

“You’re still coming up for graduation, right?” Tony asks.

 

“I told you I would,” Bruce replies. “But I’m right in the middle of something right now, so—”

 

Tony quickly says, “I have a proposition for you. I won’t keep you long.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“What are you doing after finals, say through June?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce frowns. “I don’t know. Probably working somewhere, if I can find a job.”

 

“Then what would you say to a vacation?” Tony asks. “Graduation gift from my parents.”

 

Bruce only wishes he could. “Tony, you know I don’t have that kind of money.”

 

“All expenses paid, me and a friend, and Dad said that since it’s you, he can actually trust us not to do something incredibly stupid,” Tony wheedles.

 

That kind of generosity is typical of Tony, and Bruce is mostly over the fact that Tony has more money than he could ever spend. It helps that Tony doesn’t ever throw that fact in Bruce’s face, or act superior just because his dad is a billionaire.

 

Tony values brains, and he values Bruce for his intelligence, and his ability to keep up in a way most people can’t. Bruce feels much the same way about him.

 

“I don’t know, Tony,” Bruce hedges. “That’s a lot.”

 

“I’m not going without you,” Tony replies with the flat tone of voice that tells Bruce he’s serious. “If you don’t want to go, or you can’t go, I’ll go back home and start working.”

 

Bruce snorts. “That’s blackmail.”

 

“It’s the truth,” Tony counters. “Come on, you know everything is changing. This is pretty much our last hurrah.”

 

The thing is, Tony isn’t wrong. He’s graduating from MIT and will go back to California, whereas Bruce has another year to finish his degrees in biochem and physics before he starts his doctoral program. Bruce knows he’ll have even less free time then, and probably less money, too.

 

What Tony is offering is more than just a trip to Europe—it’s the promise of weeks alone together.

 

“No chaperones?” Bruce clarifies.

 

“Part of the terms of the agreement,” Tony confirms, sounding triumphant, probably because he knows he has Bruce on the ropes. “I had to swear we wouldn’t get arrested.”

 

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for me,” Bruce replies. “I’ll have to make sure my aunt and uncle are okay with it, and I need to get my passport.”

 

Tony sounds almost unbearably smug when he says, “I thought you might. I’ll let Dad know. Get back to work, Banner.”

 

He hangs up, but Tony’s always that abrupt on the phone, so Bruce is neither surprised nor insulted.

 

But he _is_ breathless as he realizes exactly what he’s signed on for—a little over a month, just him and Tony, away from adults and roommates and school.

 

Bruce wonders if he’s overthinking this, if he’s reading too much into it. He doesn’t think so.

 

Even if he were, though, Bruce would still go. No matter what he’d said, Bruce is pretty sure there’s no way he can say no to Tony.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony would skip his graduation ceremony if he could get away with it, but it’s impossible to do so. His parents had shown up for it, and it’s a photo op for the press, and a chance for his dad to give a few sound bites about how Tony is the future of Stark Industries, and he couldn’t be prouder that he’d graduated from MIT, summa cum laude.

 

Those words would probably mean a lot more if Howard Stark actually said them to _Tony_ , and not to the microphone shoved in his face.

 

Tomorrow, a story will run about how Tony Stark is a chip off the old block, and it’s one big happy family, but Tony won’t be around to see it.

 

No, instead, he’ll be jetting off to Europe for a little over a month, free from obligations, duties, and parental figures.

 

Tony may have been planning this for a while.

 

He spots Bruce approaching and grins. “Bruce!”

 

Bruce pulls him in for a hard hug, pounding him on the back. He’s grown an inch or so, and has filled out slightly since the last time Tony had seen him, and he looks good.

 

“You look good,” Bruce says with a grin, tugging on the front of Tony’s graduation robe. “Congratulations, man. Not that I had any doubts that you’d graduate in record time and at the top of your class.”

 

“You, too,” Tony replies. “I’ll be at Culver in a year when you do the same.”

 

Bruce grins, looking a little bashful. “You never know. I might crash and burn in my last year.”

 

Tony laughs at that. “Yeah, right.”

 

“Bruce!” Tony’s mom calls. “How nice to see you again!”

 

Bruce blushes, but he accepts her hug with one of his own. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Stark. Thank you for this. I really appreciate the opportunity to go to Europe.”

 

“It’s our pleasure,” she assures him. “I know how close you and Tony are, and I’m sure it will do you good to get away from the grind.”

 

Tony’s dad approaches, and he shakes Bruce’s hand formally. “I hope you boys have a good time.”

 

“Really, thank you, Mr. Stark,” Bruce says.

 

“As hard as you boys have been working, you deserve a break,” his dad says. “And I know you’ll keep Tony out of trouble.”

 

Bruce has visited Tony in Malibu a few times now, at least once every summer so that Tony could make good on his promise to teach Bruce how to surf, and once for Spring Break last year. Tony isn’t terribly surprised that Bruce had managed to charm both his parents without even trying, just by being himself.

 

But then Bruce is serious and studious and polite. He is _exactly_ the sort of friend Tony’s parents want him to bring home.

 

Although it’s probably for the best that they don’t know about the depth of Tony’s feelings for him.

 

And yeah, Tony is a little jealous that his dad seems so openly approving of Bruce when he doesn’t show as much regard for Tony unless he’s talking to a reporter.

 

“There’s a car waiting for you two,” Tony’s mom says. “You’ll be safe? And let us know how you’re doing?”

 

“I promise,” Tony says. “We’ll call.”

 

His mom hugs them both, and his dad shakes their hands, and then they’re headed out. Bruce had stashed his pack at the back of the room, stuffed to the gills, and he tosses it in with Tony’s.

 

They’ll run out of clean clothes eventually, but Tony isn’t worried about that. His dad had insisted they stay at hotels he knows of, that he can trust, which means they can ask to have their clothing cleaned easily enough.

 

The hired limo hums quietly as the driver heads for the airport, and Bruce laughs. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

 

“You and me, Brucie,” Tony replies, waving his arms grandly. “We’re going to have fun!”

 

“Where are we going first?” Bruce asks, and then laughs again. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask you that before now.”

 

Tony grins at him. “You trust me.”

 

“Implicitly,” Bruce agrees. “So?”

 

“Italy first,” Tony replies. “Rome, and then Venice. After that? I guess we’ll see. We can figure it out as we go along.”

 

Bruce’s hands clutch the fabric of his jeans. “Okay. That sounds good.”

 

“You’ve flown before, right?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Sure.”

 

“So, this is even better. Dad sent the company plane, so there’s no going through security, no crying babies, it’s just us, and whatever we want,” Tony replies. “Relax.”

 

Bruce glances over at him. “It just feels weird.”

 

Tony is fairly sure Bruce is referring to the fact that Tony is paying for everything, but he doesn’t look at it like that. If they’d stayed in the United States, there probably would have been someone around to watch over them. He’d pay a hell of a lot to ensure several weeks of privacy.

 

“Look, I wanted to hang out with you before I started my job with Stark Industries,” Tony says seriously. “And _you_ needed a break before you finished undergrad and started your graduate program. This was the solution I came up with.” He pauses. “Where are you doing your graduate degree, anyway?”

 

Bruce looks out the window at the scenery, such as it is. “Either University of Michigan or MIT. I have offers from both already.”

 

Tony isn’t surprised that Bruce has his pick of the top physics schools in the country, although he is a little disappointed that if Bruce _does_ choose MIT, he’ll be there after Tony’s gone.

 

Also, neither school is in Los Angeles or New York, the two cities where Tony’s going to be spending the bulk of his time. Granted, Tony can visit Bruce just about any time he wants, even if he’s in Timbuktu, but Tony knows better.

 

Life is going to change after this, which is what this trip is all about.

 

“They’re both good schools,” Tony says, “and I say that as someone who is completely biased towards my alma mater.”

 

Bruce offers a quick, relieved smile. “Yeah, I know. It’s a difficult decision, although I have time. Dr. Singh has indicated that she would be willing to be my advisor.”

 

Tony had met her a time or two at MIT, and he whistles. “Then I think you have your answer. It’s not like I don’t know the way there.”

 

Bruce’s grin is answer enough. “Even if you didn’t, I know that wouldn’t stop you.”

 

“I’d hope it wouldn’t stop you either,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce bumps his shoulder against Tony’s. “No, not even close.”

 

~~~~~

 

Other than the flight crew—pilot, co-pilot, and two stewardesses—Bruce and Tony have the plane to themselves, and Bruce honestly has no idea what to do with himself.

 

He sits, facing Tony, in a plush leather seat, and there’s hard rock playing in the background. It all feels so surreal, and Bruce wants to pinch himself to prove that it’s not a dream.

 

“You want something to drink?” Tony asks. “We’ve got pretty much anything you want.”

 

“Water is great,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Water? Loosen up, Bruce.”

 

Bruce smirks. “Orange juice?”

 

“That’s your version of living large?” Tony counters.

 

Bruce doesn’t really drink alcohol, partly because it’s illegal, and he doesn’t want to get into trouble, and partly because of his dad, and not wanting to risk getting addicted himself.

 

But there’s a part of him that wants to prove he’s not his father’s son, and he can drink and not get drunk, or at least that he doesn’t _have_ to get drunk.

 

There’s a part of him that _likes_ the idea of flirting with danger.

 

“What do you have?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony grins at him. “I’ll surprise you.”

 

There’s orange juice in the glass that Tony hands him, but Bruce feels the warmth of alcohol, too.

 

“Screwdriver,” Tony says. “With plenty of vitamin C.”

 

“Pretty sure the alcohol makes it less healthy,” Bruce replies, taking a sip.

 

Tony shrugs carelessly. “So what? We’re on vacation. When have you really ever cut loose, Brucie?”

 

“Pretty sure we cut loose last summer,” Bruce replies, taking another cautious sip.

 

Tony snorts. “Surfing doesn’t count.”

 

“I thought it counted.”

 

“My parents were around the entire time,” Tony protests. “We surfed, we ate, but we did not drink.”

 

Bruce smirks, not above flirting with him. “We spent a week surfing and laying on the beach. And we picked up a few girls.”

 

“True,” Tony replies. “I’m hoping we can do something a little different with this trip, though.”

 

Bruce takes another drink. “Oh?”

 

“You’ll see when we get to Rome,” Tony promises. “We’re going to have the time of our lives.”

 

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the comfortable seats, but Bruce falls asleep shortly thereafter, waking when Tony shakes him. “There’s a car waiting to take us to our hotel.”

 

Bruce rubs his eyes. “We’re here already?”

 

“You slept the whole way, which is great, because we can hit the ground running,” Tony replies. “I’ll tell them to deliver our bags to the hotel.”

 

The sun has just risen in Rome, and they get out of the car at the hotel, which looks far nicer than any place Bruce has ever stayed. Tony holds a whispered conversation—in Italian, no less—with the bellhop, pressing a folded bill into his hand, and then turns to Bruce. “You want to get cleaned up or anything?”

 

Bruce wouldn’t mind a shower, but he’s not tired, and they’re in _Rome_. He doesn’t want to miss a thing. “No. Let’s go explore.”

 

They find a shop and drink cups of espresso and eat pastries, and then they go wandering the city.

 

In Rome, they blend in with all the other tourists, even though it’s not quite peak season. Here, they’re just another couple of American teenagers, even if Tony speaks better Italian than most. They join the crowds at the Coliseum and then hit most of the highlights, wandering ruins in warm sunlight, stopping for lunch at a café and for gelato in the mid-afternoon.

 

Bruce still has to resist the impulse to pinch himself, staring up at the ruins that have lasted for centuries, with Tony standing next to him.

 

For a moment—one incredible, shining moment—Bruce feels content, and he wishes he could freeze time and stay here as they hang out by Trevi Fountain.

 

“You okay?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce turns his head to look at him. “I’m happy.”

 

Tony’s expression is one of uncomplicated joy. “So am I. What do you say we go dancing tonight?”

 

Bruce suspects that he’ll be ready for sleep long before then, but he knows he doesn’t want to waste a second. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“Come on,” Tony replies, grabbing his wrist and hauling Bruce to his feet. “We’ll catch a nap, get some dinner, and then we’ll go out.”

 

Bruce feels a buzz of anticipation, as though his life is about to change, even if he doesn’t know how, but he’s willing to follow Tony’s lead.

 

They eat dinner at a tiny restaurant, their knees bumping under the table as they eat plates of pasta carbonara and freshly baked bread. Tony orders wine, and Bruce isn’t exactly used to ordering alcohol in a restaurant, but it’s apparently normal here.

 

The red wine is full and rich in Bruce’s mouth, and the scent is unfamiliar, nothing like the alcohol that Bruce’s dad regularly drunk.

 

“Good, huh?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I don’t mind it.”

 

He hasn’t had enough to even begin feeling it when they finish up and Tony pays the bill, leading him out of the restaurant and down several streets. Bruce has no idea where they’re going, but Tony apparently has a destination in mind because he hails a taxi and reels off an address to the driver.

 

They wind up outside a club, and Bruce can hear the heavy beat of the music from inside the taxi as Tony pays the driver and opens the door. He lets Tony pull him out, his hand wrapped around Bruce’s wrist before he grabs Bruce’s hand, entwining their fingers.

 

Bruce is too surprised to pull away, and Tony’s hand in his feels right, even though it’s also dangerous.

 

Tony pays the guy at the door, and they slip inside, the music so loud that Bruce can feel his chest vibrate. Tony drags him over to the bar and orders a couple of drinks.

 

Bruce has no idea what’s in it, but he tastes lime and something bitter, and it’s cool and refreshing in the heat of the club and the press of bodies. There are a few strobe lights, but the interior is otherwise dark, and it feels both intimate and public, as though no one can see them, and yet they’re exposed as they lean against the gleaming bar.

 

“Dance with me!” Tony says, shouting to be heard over the pulsing beat.

 

Bruce hesitates, but when he looks out on the dance floor, he sees all kinds of couples—boys grinding against boys, girls entwined together, whole masses of people moving together, their faces radiant with joy.

 

“I don’t really know how to dance!” Bruce shouts back.

 

“I’ll show you,” Tony says, his mouth so close to Bruce’s ear that Bruce can feel his breath. “Follow my lead.”

 

The dance floor is so packed that they don’t have much choice about staying close together, and Tony loops his fingers through the belt loops on Bruce’s jeans, pulling him in until they’re pressed close together.

 

Between the undulating motion of Tony’s hips, and the guidance provided by Tony’s hands, Bruce finds himself getting into the rhythm. There are other people bumping up against them, and a couple gyrate against Bruce briefly before moving on; others do the same to Tony.

 

Most leave them alone, though, in their own little bubble of two. Bruce’s shirt sticks to his skin, and he pushes his hair out of his eyes and turns, and then Tony is plastered against his back, and it should be too hot, and too close.

 

But there’s the bass that feels as though it’s rattling his ribcage, and Tony’s hands on his hips, and the hardness of Tony’s erection through layers of denim. Tony pushes up Bruce’s t-shirt, his hand resting against the sweat-slick skin of Bruce’s abdomen, and Bruce pushes back.

 

It’s like a moment out of time, just like at the fountain earlier, and Bruce feels as though the person he is right at that moment wouldn’t—couldn’t—exist anywhere else. Here, for the moment, he’s with Tony, Tony grinding up against his ass, the music making it impossible to talk, and all they can do is _be_.

 

For the moment, Bruce feels like he really is eighteen, like he hasn’t already been through hell.

 

Right now, he can forget.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony’s a little surprised at how well the evening had gone. He’d half-expected Bruce to balk at the door to the club—one he’d heard was gay-friendly from a classmate at boarding school. He’d kind of thought Bruce would refuse to dance.

 

Instead, Bruce is _into_ it, and he’s so damn hot that Tony isn’t surprised when random people pause to dance with him, although most people seem to understand that they’re together.

 

They dance, and drink, and then dance some more, finally leaving the club in the wee hours of the morning, exhausted and sweaty and flushed.

 

Tony wants to kiss him on the street, but he refrains, because they have a month left, and they’re both tired, and he wants to be able to take it a little further than just kissing right now.

 

There are no cabs at that time of night, so they walk back to the hotel under streetlights, the new moon all but invisible overhead.

 

“You okay?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce grins, his expression open and happy. “I think my ears are still ringing.”

 

“That will pass,” Tony replies. “Did you have fun?”

 

“I keep wondering if this is a dream,” Bruce confesses. “This doesn’t feel real.”

 

Tony pokes him in the side— _hard._

 

“Ow!”

 

“Now you know it’s real,” Tony replies smugly.

 

Bruce stares at him. “Tony, what is this?”

 

“This is us stealing time,” Tony says quietly.

 

Bruce’s smile is a little crooked. “In this case, I don’t mind turning to a life of crime.”

 

And they walk back to the hotel in silence, arriving before the sun rises, but not by much.

 

“I’m exhausted,” Bruce admits.

 

“Me too,” Tony replies, and thinks that tomorrow is soon enough to make a move on Bruce—or later that day, given the time.

 

They sleep in separate beds that night, something that Tony hopes will change soon, but they’re both too tired to do much more than collapse in spite of how sweaty they are. Tony is the first to wake up, and he’s starving.

 

He’s quiet as he rummages around in his backpack for clean clothing, and then grabs a shower, even though he’s hoping to get dirty again real soon.

 

Bruce is stirring when Tony emerges from the bathroom, blinking sleepily in the late morning sunlight. “Hey.”

 

“Hey yourself,” Tony replies fondly. “The shower’s free if you want it.”

 

Bruce grimaces. “Yeah, I think I’d better. I still feel sticky.”

 

“You hungry?”

 

“Starving, actually,” Bruce replies.

 

“I’ll call for room service,” Tony says. “I’m too hungry to go looking for food.”

 

“Yeah, order something for me, would you?” Bruce asks.

 

Italian breakfasts generally don’t consist of much other than coffee and biscuits, but Tony gets bread, cold cuts and cheese sent up to their room, along with the requisite coffee. The food arrives just as Bruce emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp and curling.

 

“Oh, good, food,” Bruce says, brightening.

 

They eat quickly, sipping coffee in between bites. Once Tony’s hunger is sated, he starts to slow down, pouring another cup of coffee from the carafe and watching Bruce as he folds another piece of bread around prosciutto and a slice of soft, mellow cheese.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” Tony asks, sipping his coffee.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Sure.”

 

“Are you a virgin?”

 

Bruce chokes on his bread.

 

Tony smirks and pounds him on the back. “Are you gonna be okay?”

 

“Why would you ask me that?” Bruce asks hoarsely, drinking from his glass of water.

 

Tony gives him the same smile he’s used to great effect on girls in the past. “Because I’d like to help you out with that.”

 

Now that the initial surprise has faded, Bruce’s gaze is steady. “Why would you want to?”

 

“Because I’ve wanted to for years now,” Tony admits.

 

“And what makes you think I’d be interested?” Bruce counters.

 

Tony knows this is a risk. If Bruce reacts poorly, or if things get weird, they’ll either spend a month feeling really awkward, or Bruce will insist on going home immediately, in which case Tony will have to explain to his dad why he had to buy Bruce a ticket home.

 

He refuses to consider the potential outcome where Bruce ends their friendship because he can’t deal with the idea that Tony might not be entirely straight.

 

“I’d hoped,” Tony replies cautiously.

 

“Was this just an elaborate seduction attempt?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony shakes his head. “You say no, we still have a month to hang out. You say yes, we’ve got a month to hang out together _and_ have lots of sex.”

 

Bruce is quiet for a long moment, staring at Tony through half-lidded eyes, and Tony knows he’s going to have a very hard time keeping his hands to himself for the next few weeks if Bruce turns him down.

 

“I’ve been wanting to try something for a while,” Bruce says finally, and he comes around the table.

 

Tony waits as Bruce leans in, his breath catching, and then Bruce’s lips are on his, cautious at first, and then gaining confidence.

 

The angle is a little awkward, so Tony stands, his hands framing Bruce’s face, deepening the kiss, which goes from good to amazing in about two seconds.

 

Bruce might be a virgin, but he’s clearly an experienced kisser, licking inside Tony’s mouth, his teeth catching Tony’s lower lip, pulling back only to return again, like he’ll never stop. There’s part of Tony that had worried it would be weird, but it feels better than he’d hoped.

 

They pause to catch their breaths by mutual accord, and Bruce presses his forehead against Tony’s. “Have you done this before?”

 

“Not with a guy,” Tony admits. “We’ll have to make it up as we go along.”

 

“Couple of smart guys like us, we should be able to figure it out,” Bruce replies with a cocky grin, and then he pulls Tony in for another kiss.

 

This time, Tony pushes his hands under Bruce’s t-shirt, and Bruce pulls back long enough to allow Tony to pull his shirt off, and Bruce returns the favor. And now it’s bare skin against bare skin in the warm sunlight streaming through the tall, open windows on the other side of the room, the breeze light and cool.

 

Tony has to take a moment to breathe then, because if he doesn’t, this is going to be over far too soon.

 

“This okay?” Bruce asks.

 

“I’m going to come in my pants if I don’t take a second,” Tony admits.

 

Bruce grins wickedly and palms Tony through his jeans, and Tony groans. “Like that?”

 

“Pants off,” Tony orders.

 

Bruce takes a step back. “Don’t you think we’re moving too fast?”

 

Tony might have been horrified, but he sees the look in Bruce’s eyes that says he’s teasing. “You are a horrible human being.”

 

“What are you going to do about it?” Bruce counters.

  
Tony responds by dropping his pants and pushing down his boxers, letting them pool around his feet on the floor. “What are you going to do about _this_?”

 

Bruce looks him up and down, and Tony thinks maybe he’s chickening out, or maybe he’s decided he’s not interested, and then he finishes undressing, too, a flush spreading up his neck. “Okay?”

 

Tony nods, his mouth a little dry. Bruce is on the lean side but still solidly built, a sprinkling of dark hair on his chest. Tony might not be attracted to a lot of guys, but Bruce looks good. “You?”

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Bruce’s expression turns slightly self-deprecating. “I just never thought—”

 

Tony closes the distance between them, no longer interested in prolonging this encounter. They can get off, and then go back for round two later. Actually, if it works out, they can have more rounds than they can count.

 

They fall onto Tony’s bed together, bare legs tangling in a way that has Tony harder than he’s been in his life. Bruce’s hands knead the muscles of Tony’s back, then travel south to grab Tony’s ass. Tony _really_ wants to find the right angle, thinking it would be pretty great if he could get their cocks to line up, but desperation is working against them right now, neither of them wanting to let go.

 

“Hang on,” Tony gasps. “Just—hang on.”

 

As the more experienced party, he feels it’s incumbent on him to set the rhythm, and he pulls back slightly to line up their hips and their cocks, trying to jack them both off at the same time.

 

Bruce’s hand joins his, and that’s pretty much all it takes. Tony comes, and his semen coats his hand, making it easier to finish Bruce off, which takes a couple of seconds more. Tony rolls off to the side and tries to catch his breath.

 

The whole thing has taken _maybe_ five minutes, but it’s probably the best five minutes of his life to date.

 

Bruce is breathing heavily, and he pants, “That was…”

 

“Good?” Tony asks, propping himself up on one hand.

 

“Fucking _awesome_ ,” Bruce replies with a wide grin. “God, Tony.”

 

Tony reaches out to brush Bruce’s hair off his forehead. “We’ve got a whole month of awesome ahead of us.”

 

Bruce’s expression turns wistful. “Stealing time, huh?”

 

“As much as we can,” Tony promises.

 

~~~~~

 

They leave their hotel room eventually, even though Bruce is fairly sure that neither of them wants to go anywhere. But Rome awaits them, and Tony says, “Not only am I hungry, but I wouldn’t put it past my dad to have someone keeping an eye on us.”

 

Bruce has been basking in the afterglow, doing his best to forget the fact that their time together is limited. “You think your dad is spying on us?”

 

“No, I think he probably asked someone at the hotel to keep an eye on us, to make sure we don’t get into any trouble,” Tony says, running a finger down Bruce’s sternum. “And I don’t want to give him a reason to think that this trip is anything other than what it looks like.”

 

“A seduction attempt?” Bruce teases, masking the pang he feels at the reminder that they have to hide the nature of their relationship.

 

“Two buddies sowing their wild oats,” Tony counters. “He doesn’t need to know the specifics past that.”

 

Tony rolls out of bed. “Come on. We’ll get cleaned up and go out. We’ve still got more of the city to see.”

 

The shower is too small to share, and so they take turns rinsing off, and then pull on the clothes they’d discarded earlier, venturing out into the midafternoon sunlight. Overhead, the sky is a clear, cloudless blue, and Bruce swears he can feel the age of the city in the stones they walk on and the ancient buildings that seem as old as the earth itself.

 

When they’re hungry enough, they find a restaurant and split a pizza between them, the crust thin and crisp, with a spicy tomato sauce and sausage, with strings of melted cheese and fresh herbs.

 

Coming from a steady diet of budget frozen dinners and cafeteria food, Bruce feels as though he’s in heaven. The food isn’t expensive, but Bruce isn’t used to ordering from a menu without looking at the prices and doing quick math to see if he’s got enough spare change to cover it.

 

The fact that he’s with Tony just makes it that much better.

 

They’re working on the last couple of slices when two girls about their own age approach their table—one with dark hair, one with red, both of them giggling and blushing. The brunette takes the lead, speaking in Italian.

 

Tony replies in the same language, and then switches to English. “This is my friend, Bruce. Bruce, this is Edita and Stansie.”

 

“We thought you were American,” the redhead—Stansie—says, in heavily accented English. “May we join you?”

 

She’s looking at Bruce, which surprises him. When he’d gone to the beach with Tony in the past, learning how to surf, there had been plenty of girls who had approached them, but Bruce had always been the tagalong; the girls had definitely flocked to Tony.

 

Bruce glances at Tony, who shrugs and quirks an eyebrow, clearly leaving the decision up to Bruce. “Um, sure.”

 

They order dessert and coffee and more wine, and Stansie leans close to Bruce, speaking English slowly, but fluently, even if Bruce has to pay close attention to understand.

 

He’s really not quite sure what to do with Stansie’s attention, because she’s clearly interested in _him_ , and not just in getting to Tony _through_ him.

 

Bruce glances at Tony on occasion, but Tony seems focused on Edita, although the one time he meets Bruce’s eyes, he looks amused more than anything else.

 

“Do you want to go to a party?” Stansie asks.

 

Bruce looks at Tony, who smiles, a warm promise in his eyes. “Not tonight. We have places to be.”

 

Both girls look disappointed, but they accept Tony’s refusal with a quiet, “ _Ciao_.”

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bruce says as they leave the restaurant, once Tony has paid the bill.

 

“Do what?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Not go to the party. They were into you.”

 

Tony snorts. “Okay, one, Edita might have been into me, but Stansie was eyeing _you_. Second, this trip is about us. There will be plenty of time to pick up girls when you go back to college.”

 

“Funny thing, girls aren’t all that interested in me,” Bruce says.

 

“That’s going to change,” Tony replies. “It’s just a matter of finding the smart ones who want you for your brain.”

 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “I’m not you.”

 

“Lucky for me,” Tony says. “It means we get to have _this_.”

 

He still can’t believe this is real, that he gets to have Tony for any length of time, or that he gets to have Tony like _this_ , that Tony would pass on the opportunity to go to a party with a couple of pretty girls.

 

Bruce resolves to focus on the present, on what he has right now, and not the future.

 

They walk for a little while, letting their food settle, letting their hands brush, bumping shoulders, and Bruce recognizes it for foreplay, the only kind they can indulge in public.

 

When they get back to their hotel, Tony pushes Bruce back up against the door with a thump, kissing him with something close to desperation. “Do you know how much I wanted to tell that girl to keep her hands off you? To tell her that you’re mine?”

 

Bruce groans when Tony shoves his hand down the back of his pants. “I could say the same.”

 

“I liked seeing you flustered, and I liked that you kept looking at me,” Tony says, nipping at Bruce’s neck. “You have no idea how fucking hot you are.”

 

“Whereas you are well aware,” Bruce replies, managing to make a snappy comeback in spite of just how quickly his blood is rushing south.

 

Tony pauses to grin at him. “Aware of your hotness? Yeah.”

 

“No, you asshole, of _your_ hotness,” Bruce replies, and takes advantage of Tony’s momentary distraction to push him back towards the bed.

 

Tony backs up, his hands going to the front of Bruce’s pants. “Can I blow you?”

 

Bruce blinks. “Huh?”

 

“Blow job, I’m offering,” Tony replies. “You don’t have anything against blow jobs, do you?”

 

“I’ve never had one,” Bruce says, startled into honesty. “But I’m willing to try just about anything once.”

 

Tony nods, looking determined. “All right. Come on. Sit on the edge of the bed.”

 

“Have you ever done this before?” Bruce asks. He trusts Tony, but letting anybody’s teeth near his dick seems a little risky.

 

Tony shrugs. “I’ve been on the receiving end, but there’s never been anybody else’s dick I _wanted_ to suck.”

 

Bruce feels strangely honored. “Thanks.”

 

Tony cups his jaw, moving in for a kiss. “You just tell me if something isn’t working for you,” he says when he pulls back. “And let me know if you’re going to come, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Bruce agrees, feeling a thrill of anticipation as he pulls Tony’s shirt off over his head, and Tony finishes unfastening Bruce’s jeans. Bruce pushes down both jeans and underwear, and then lets Tony position him on the edge of the bed, pushing his knees apart.

 

Bruce watches in fascination as Tony kneels, his hands running up and down Bruce’s thighs, his thumbs teasing the creases of Bruce’s groin. And then Tony starts to touch him—his dick, his balls, and then Tony licks his dick from base to tip, and Bruce closes his eyes and tries really hard not to come right then. He doesn’t want it to be over so soon.

 

Maybe Tony has never done this before, but Bruce has also never had a blowjob, so he has no comparisons to draw. Tony seems fairly enthusiastic, and when he has to pull back to catch his breath, and probably rest his jaw, he uses his hand to keep things interesting.

 

Bruce yelps when Tony’s teeth scrape the thin skin, and Tony quickly pulls back. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to.”

 

“Just try not to do it again,” Bruce orders breathlessly.

 

“Sorry,” Tony says again, and then tries again.

 

This time, Tony focuses on using his tongue, and there isn’t the slightest hint of teeth. Bruce rests one hand on the back of Tony’s head, and he hums his approval. That vibration pushes Bruce that much closer to the edge, and he tugs Tony’s hair in warning.

 

Tony sits back on his heels, jerking Bruce off, catching his semen in his other hand.

 

Bruce flops back on the bed, completely spent. “Give me a second.”

 

“I’m just going to wash my hands,” Tony replies. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.”

 

Bruce takes off his shirt, and then feels too exposed, so he pulls back the covers and slides under the sheet.

 

Tony emerges from the bathroom a moment later, and he takes off the rest of his clothing and climbs into bed next to Bruce.

 

“I can reciprocate,” Bruce offers.

 

“I’d take your hand,” Tony replies.

 

It’s different, jerking someone else off, but Tony’s already on the verge, and it doesn’t take long. Bruce watches Tony’s face, his changing expressions as Bruce twists his hand just right or fingers his balls or touches the crack of Tony’s ass.

 

Bruce thinks he’ll always remember this, that in one year, or five, or ten, he will always remember what Tony looks like as he falls apart, watches as all of his walls come down.

 

Bruce will remember what it’s like to be with someone when there’s nothing between them but need and love.

 

He knows that he’s never going to settle for less.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony is a seasoned traveler. As the son of a billionaire industrialist, he’s been to most of the major cities in Europe and the Americas. He can speak intelligently about many of the major landmarks and historical events in most of those cities, and can give a brief rundown of the type of government. He can also talk about the intellectual property laws in every country where Stark Industries has a presence, which is a lot of them.

 

But Tony is traveling with Bruce now, and Bruce has never been outside the United States. Everything is new to him, and they walk down streets that have been around for centuries, passing monuments and ancient buildings and museums. They go boating in Venice and hiking in the Alps; they hit up dance clubs in West Berlin, and Tony pulls strings to get a special tour of the UN headquarters in Geneva.

 

With Bruce, everything is new again—the sights, the food, even the beaches of southern France, where Tony has spent a lot of summer days.

 

They work their way across Europe, spending a few days in each city, living out of their backpacks, staying in luxury hotels. At night, they have sex in one bed and sleep in the other, just so no one suspects anything, unwilling to spend even one second apart.

 

Neither of them talks about the fact that their time will inevitably come to an end, but Tony is all too aware of the passing days.

 

He knows that it’s going to be a wrench when they have to part. Tony would give just about anything to change that, but there’s no other choice. He has no idea what his father’s response would be if he were to announce that he’s with Bruce, and Tony won’t give him up.

 

But Tony’s always been aware that he’s the sole heir, and it’s his duty to head up the company. He’s pretty sure that having a queer as CEO won’t move Stark Industries forward—and that’s assuming his dad wouldn’t disown him, which Tony’s not sure about.

 

And Bruce wants to get his doctorate, which means that he needs an advisor, and he doesn’t need the weight of being labeled as homosexual. Plus, Bruce doesn’t need his aunt and uncle putting pressure on him either.

 

They’re fucked, and that means they’ve got now, and nothing else.

 

The truth is, Tony’s pretty sure this is the best month of his life; he knows what Bruce means when he says it feels like a dream. It feels that way to him, too.

 

They only spend a couple of days in London, and then head to sun-drenched Barcelona to finish out their time in Europe. Barcelona is bright, and the weather is excellent while they’re in the city—clear blue skies, not a cloud in sight, and temperatures that aren’t too warm or too cold.

 

He and Bruce have grown bolder over the last few weeks, letting their hands tangle on occasion, walking arm in arm, sitting as close together as they can manage in restaurants. They try nearly every sex position they can think of without actually penetrating each other, although they get close.

 

Bruce clearly hasn’t had anything, even his own fingers, up his ass before, and he has a hard time relaxing. Tony doesn’t have that problem, so he figures if anybody is going to get fucked, it’s going to be him.

 

Tony broaches the subject two days before they have to leave after a day spent at Barcaloneta. “So, I think you should fuck me.”

 

He keeps his voice low since they’re out in public, but that’s not hard to do, since they’re sharing a small table in a restaurant on adjoining sides. Bruce is apparently getting used to Tony’s random propositions, because he calmly forks up another bite of his squid.

 

“Really?” Bruce asks once he’s swallowed, a smirk on his lips.

 

“I have completely corrupted you,” Tony says.

 

Bruce shrugs, clearly unconcerned. “So?”

 

“So, what do you say to my proposition?” Tony asks.

 

“There was a proposition?” Bruce takes another bite.

 

Tony glares at him. “Seriously, man? That’s what you’re going with?”

 

“You sure you don’t want to fuck _me_?” Bruce counters.

 

“Am I sure I _do_ want to fuck you? Yes, I am,” Tony replies. “I definitely want to fuck you. Eventually. But you’re still getting used to the feeling of having something up your ass, and I’m ready. So, I’ll wait.”

 

And now Bruce drops the cavalier attitude and grows serious. “We have two days, Tony.”

 

“We have two days this time,” Tony counters. “But there will be other moments, Bruce. There will be other times. You said you’d be willing to steal time for me.”

 

“Always,” Bruce agrees, and then falls silent. He chews thoughtfully, tearing off another piece of bread from the loaf in the middle of the table. “I just don’t think this is going to change. You’re always going to be Tony Stark.”

 

Tony grabs his knee under the table. “You never know. The world could change. Maybe we’ll be the ones changing it.”

 

“Or we’ll be the ones reinforcing it,” Bruce says quietly.

 

Tony frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

“When this is over, you’re going to go home to your dad’s company, and you’re going to make weapons,” Bruce replies. “And I’m going to get my doctorate and eventually I’ll have to get funding, and that probably means military contracts. You and I both know how likely it is that we’ll ever do more than feed into the existing structure.”

 

Tony swallows. “You mean how likely it is that we’ll come out.”

 

Bruce meets his eyes with a wary acceptance. “I mean that it’s impossible right now, and we both know it. And if things change in ten years, or twenty, or thirty, we’ll be different people, and we’ll be in a different place, and maybe we won’t even know each other anymore. Changing things might not even make a difference to us.”

 

Tony swallows hard. “Changing the world always makes a difference to somebody.”

 

“And if we don’t change it?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony forces a smile. “We will. That’s all there is to it.”

 

“Yes,” Bruce says. “That’s my answer.”

 

Tony hasn’t forgotten the question, and he nods. “Okay, then. Tonight.”

 

Bruce offers a wistful smile. “Tonight.”

 

They don’t head back to the hotel right away after dinner by silent assent, and Tony suspects that they both want to stretch things out, to make the next two days last as long as possible.

 

Instead, Tony and Bruce wander down brick sidewalks, in the shadows of ancient buildings, walking through the patches of light that the streetlamps give off.

 

It’s beautiful and haunting, and Tony is fiercely glad they’re ending their trip in Barcelona, because he’s only been here once before with his mom, when he’d been very young. He knows he’ll never come back to this city without remembering Bruce, although he has no intention of returning without Bruce at his side.

 

Eventually, though, they have to go back to the hotel, and Tony’s brought plenty of supplies, mostly lube. It’s not like he has to worry about Bruce getting pregnant.

 

He’s the one to close the drapes in their room, and the one to dig the lube out of his pack. Bruce stands in the center of the room watching him, like he’s not sure what he’s doing.

 

“Are you okay with this?” Tony asks, wanting to check in.

 

“Yeah,” Bruce replies, sounding a little hoarse. “Absolutely. I just—I want to remember this.”

 

Tony will never admit it, but he understands Bruce’s impulse. “You always remember your first,” he says, making a joke out of it.

 

“I guess you do,” Bruce agrees and steps forward, taking the lube out of Tony’s hand. “Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

 

But Tony wants this in a way he can’t describe. There might be other people after Bruce—Tony _knows_ there will be—but he wants Bruce to be the first.

 

He doesn’t have a lot to give, but he can give Bruce this much. Tony’s pretty sure there won’t be a lot of guys he’ll ever trust enough to fuck him, so maybe Bruce will be the last, too.

 

“I’m sure,” Tony says. “Go slow, and use a lot of lube.”

 

“Tell me if it’s not working for you,” Bruce replies.

 

And then they both undress, leaving their clothing on the floor, and the mood is somber. Tony wants _so badly_ to make a joke, but he can’t, because it feels like a goodbye, and Bruce is too important to make into a joke.

 

They have today and not much more, and Tony is about to get fucked. He’s not going to jeopardize that.

 

Tony kneels on the bed, and then goes to all fours, and he feels exposed and incredibly vulnerable.

 

Bruce rubs his hand up and down Tony’s back. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I’ve got you. If this isn’t working for you, we’ll do something else.”

 

Tony believes him. “I know. I trust you.”

 

He feels Bruce let out a breath at the base of his spine, and then he feels Bruce’s tongue, and _holy fuck._

 

Tony yelps, and Bruce laughs. “I’ve got you.”

 

Tony had no idea Bruce would be willing to rim him, but by the time he starts opening Tony up with his fingers, Tony is nearly out of his mind with pleasure. All he knows is Bruce’s tongue, and then his fingers, and he presses back into both wanting _more_.

 

He always wants more. It might be a character flaw.

 

Bruce pulls back slightly and pushes in with two fingers. He keeps missing Tony’s prostate, so Tony says, “Crook your fingers. No, the other way. Yes, right—”

 

The instruction is lost on a grunt as Bruce’s fingers find their mark, and like the genius he is, Bruce correctly interprets that noise and strokes across it a few more times before adding a third finger. Bruce puts his free hand on Tony’s dick, and Tony says, “Don’t. I’ll be done too fast.”

 

“Okay,” Bruce replies, and presses his lips to the base of Tony’s spine. “You ready?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Do it.”

 

Without prompting, Bruce goes slow, demonstrating more restraint than Tony would probably manage, pausing when he’s balls-deep. “Okay.”

 

Tony’s a little breathless; he’s fairly sure Bruce’s dick is the biggest thing he’s had in his ass. “Just stay there for a minute, okay?”

 

Bruce’s hand rubs his abdomen in soothing circles. “Long as you need. Within reason.”

 

Tony takes a few deep breaths. “Okay, but slow.”

 

Bruce withdraws with agonizing slowness, and then pushes back in, and Tony’s pretty sure he’s added more lube. This time, he angles his hips just right and brushes Tony’s prostate, and Tony’s flagging erection returns full force.

 

“Okay?” Bruce asks.

 

“Faster.”

 

Tony can’t see anything but the bedspread, and he suddenly wishes he could see Bruce’s face. Bruce wraps an arm around Tony’s hips and begins to move a little faster, angling his hips in a way that he hits Tony’s prostate just often enough to keep things really interesting.

 

Then Bruce wraps his hand around Tony’s dick, and Tony lasts for all of five seconds before he’s coming over Bruce’s hand. Bruce slams into him a few more times and then stops, clutching Tony tighter as he orgasms.

 

For a moment, Bruce just holds him tightly, resting his forehead against the back of Tony’s neck, one hand rubbing down Tony’s thigh.

 

“Okay?” Bruce asks.

 

“Fucking _great_ ,” Tony replies honestly, hissing a bit as Bruce withdraws.

 

“Are you sore?” Bruce asks.

 

“Maybe a little,” Tony replies, stretching out, ignoring how gross he feels for the moment now that his orgasm has passed. “I don’t mind.”

 

Bruce props himself on an elbow and watches Tony, a lock of hair falling over one eye. “Thanks.”

 

“I could say the same,” Tony replies, brushing his thumb over Bruce’s nipple.

 

Bruce’s expression has turned slightly wistful. “Do you ever wish things could be different?”

 

Tony flops on his back. “Do you remember when I visited you the first time?”

 

“Sure,” Bruce agrees readily, his hand on Tony’s chest, right over his heart. “I wished you could stay then.”

 

“So did I,” Tony replies. “Right then, I could imagine another life entirely, one with you. I still can. I just can’t see a way to get it.”

 

“There isn’t,” Bruce says simply. “Maybe, someday, things will change, and it won’t matter.”

 

It hurts to say it, but Tony says, “I want you to be happy more than anything else. You know that, right?”

 

Bruce presses a kiss to Tony’s bare shoulder. “I love you.”

 

“I know,” Tony says smugly.

 

Bruce’s head comes up abruptly. “Did you just Han Solo me?” he asks incredulously.

 

Tony laughs, although he feels the bittersweet edge. “Maybe. I love that you got that reference, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Bruce says, his expression impossibly fond. “Promise me you’ll stay in touch.”

 

“Like that was even in question,” Tony scoffs. “As my best friend, you are required to be on call for all important events in my life.”

 

“Same goes for me,” Bruce says.

 

And then Tony pulls him close and holds on. “Someday, I’m going to figure out how to stop time.”

 

Bruce holds on just as tightly. “I’ll help you.”

 

They don’t talk about it again, although they ignore any concerns that someone will figure out what they’re doing, and stay in the hotel room all the next day, neither of them willing to go anywhere.

 

Tony knows that it’s never going to be enough, but he’s beginning to realize that he’ll probably never have enough when it comes to Bruce.


	4. Camden, Massachusetts/Manhattan, New York, December 1991

The ringing of a phone wakes him. Bruce vaguely recalls dreaming about hearing the phone ringing, so maybe it had been going on for a while, and he just hadn’t heard it.

 

He rolls out of bed and fumbles for the receiver. “’lo?”

 

“Bruce?”

 

He recognizes Tony’s voice immediately, and there’s something wrong. Bruce has known Tony for _years_ now, and Tony almost sounds like he’s crying, or like he’s close. “What happened?” he asks immediately.

 

Tony sniffs. “It was Mom and Dad. There was a car accident.”

 

“How bad?” Bruce asks.

 

“They didn’t make it,” Tony admits, his voice cracking. “God, Bruce.”

 

Bruce feels as though the world has tilted, like everything has changed, because while he hadn’t known Howard Stark well, he’d been casually acquainted. More importantly, his best friend’s parents had just died. “I can be there in a few hours.”

 

“Would you?” Tony asks, and his voice breaks again.

 

“Of course,” Bruce promises. “No problem.”

 

He has recitations, and other duties as a TA, but this one time he’ll use the Stark name to get a break. Bruce is done with classes, and he’s basically got his research and dissertation to do before he has his Ph.D.

 

“You can stay here,” Tony adds. “It would be good to have you close.”

 

“I’ll be there,” Bruce promises. “When is the funeral?”

 

“Three days,” Tony replies. “Obadiah’s helping me with the arrangements.”

 

Bruce does a quick calculation in his head. “If I drive down, can I get parking?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Tony says readily. “Whatever you want. I can send the plane for you if you like.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Bruce says immediately. “I should probably call Aunt Elaine at least. Are you okay with that?”

 

Tony lets out a watery chuckle. “I’m okay. If she wants to come—hell, if your whole family wants to come—I’ll make sure we pick up the bill. You’re family.”

 

Bruce smiles. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Hang in there, Tony.”

 

They haven’t seen much of each other since Europe. Tony has been busy learning the ins and outs of Stark Industries, and Bruce has been occupied with his doctoral program and other duties.

 

Plus, Bruce had needed some distance. There are still moments when their time in Europe feels like a dream, and others when he reaches for Tony in the night. They still talk on the phone, and they’ve been starting to use electronic means to communicate, but it’s not the same as it was.

 

Bruce is smart enough to know that it never will be—just like he knows Tony’s life is going to be completely upended. Bruce had lost both of his parents in one fell swoop, after all, although he hadn’t been the heir apparent to a vast fortune.

 

He calls his aunt next. “I saw on the news,” she says. “Have you talked to Tony yet?”

 

“Yeah, he sounds pretty wrecked,” Bruce replies. “I’m heading down there now. I thought you might want to know.”

 

“I’ll fly in,” his aunt promises. “Jen’s last final is on Thursday, so we can be there Thursday night. I don’t think Morris will be able to get away, though.”

 

Bruce rubs his eyes. “That’s okay, Aunt Elaine. I know Tony will appreciate you being here.”

 

“How are you, honey?” she asks.

 

Bruce swallows hard. “Better than Tony right now.”

 

“We’ll be there in a couple of days,” she promises. “Drive safe. Call me when you get there.”

 

“I will,” Bruce says. He throws some clothes in a bag and grabs the only suit he owns, looping one of the few ties he has over the hanger. It doesn’t take him long to pack, and he’s on the road in his battered Dodge truck, which is a gas-guzzler, but useful when he wants to move something.

 

Bruce arrives a couple of hours after the sun comes up, his truck chugging up the paved drive of the Starks’ Long Island mansion. He feels completely out of place, but he’s used to feeling that way around Tony by now.

 

The front door swings open before Bruce can knock, and he’s surprised to see Tony there, red-eyed and pale.

 

Bruce drops his bag and hauls Tony into a tight embrace.

 

Tony clings to him, shoving his face against the side of Bruce’s neck, and Bruce just holds him tightly until Tony pulls back. “I’m glad you came.”

 

“Of course I did,” Bruce says immediately. “Always.”

 

“Come in,” Tony says. “It’s just me right now. Obie had a few things to do in the city.”

 

“Just Tony” doesn’t mean he’s alone in the house, of course. A uniformed maid comes and takes Bruce’s bag, and he sees a few other household staff, including a man in a suit, and a few other maids.

 

“Do you want a drink?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “It’s a little early for that, isn’t it?”

 

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Tony replies. “Do you mind if I have one?”

 

Bruce minds a little, but he’s not about to say anything, not when Tony’s just lost both his parents. Tony has to cope somehow, and Bruce isn’t going to judge. “Go for it. I’ll hold your hair back when you puke.”

 

“Fuck you,” Tony says with the faintest hint of a smile.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I think I’m going to need a better offer.”

 

Tony actually laughs at that, which is what Bruce had been going for. “Come on, man. It’s the best I’ve got right now.”

 

“I know,” Bruce says quietly.

 

Tony swallows. “That’s why I called you.”

 

“When is the funeral?” Bruce asks.

 

“Saturday,” Tony says. “Obadiah thought we’d need that much time to let everybody get here.”

 

Bruce can’t help but compare that to his mom’s funeral, where there had been very few people present. His mom hadn’t had any family, and her whole life had been Bruce and her husband. He’s pretty sure the Starks’ funeral will attract a lot of attention and a lot of people.

 

He wonders how many of them will be there just for Tony. He suspects not many.

 

Tony pours a drink from a bottle of amber liquid and says, “Come on. I’ll show you Dum-E. I don’t think you’ve met him yet.”

 

Tony leads Bruce to a garage on the premises, and Bruce lets Tony direct the conversation, wanting to just be there for him. He has some idea of just how impressive Dum-E is to be able to follow even simple verbal instructions. “I’m building something even better,” Tony says, and he sounds little manic, like he’s trying desperately to distract himself. Eventually, they head back into the house, and up to Tony’s room, and Tony brings his glass and a bottle with him.

 

Tony goes on about the artificial intelligence he’s creating, taking frequent sips of whatever it is he’s drinking.

 

“Have you slept?” Bruce asks abruptly.

 

Tony shakes his head. “I can’t.”

 

“Come on,” Bruce cajoles. “Lie down for a little while.”

 

“I can’t,” Tony chokes out. “I just—”

 

Bruce plucks the glass out of Tony’s hand and sets it aside, and then pulls him to the bed. “Then keep me company while I sleep, because I’m exhausted.”

 

Tony hovers near the edge of his bed while Bruce toes off his shoes. “Bruce.”

 

“Get over here, Stark,” Bruce orders roughly.

 

Tony climbs in next to him, pressing his forehead to Bruce’s chest. “I don’t think I can do this.”

 

“You can do anything,” Bruce replies, believing it. “You can get through this. There isn’t any other option.”

 

Tony’s shoulders shake, and Bruce presses his forehead to the top of Tony’s head, and he just tries to hold Tony together.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony wakes slowly, his eyes gritty and sore. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, but he has to admire Bruce’s masterful manipulation. Tony would probably have kept pushing himself until he dropped, but he feels better now.

 

He’d been woken in the early morning hours by the police, and he’d had to call Obadiah, and then identify his parents’ bodies, so he hasn’t had much sleep over the last couple of days. He’d called Bruce as soon as he could, though, and had been beyond grateful when Bruce had immediately promised to drop everything to come.

 

And now, he’s in his own bed, but Bruce is there with him, still holding him close.

 

Tony sighs, wishing once again that things were different, and he could keep Bruce with him, especially now.

 

He knows better.

 

Bruce shifts, his grip tightening briefly. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Tony murmurs, blinking at the bright sunlight streaming into the room. He cranes his neck and catches sight of the clock—it’s just after 2 pm.

 

“What do you have to do yet today?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony doesn’t really want to think about it, but he knows he has to. “Probably meet with Obie, and make sure arrangements are finalized. I don’t know about the rest of it. Obie will head up Stark Industries for now, but—”

 

“You’re going to have to take the reins,” Bruce says quietly. “I know.”

 

“I could hire you as my personal assistant,” Tony jokes.

 

Bruce runs his hand through Tony’s hair. “That’s probably more tempting than it should be.”

 

Even if he’s joking, it makes Tony feel better that Bruce would even consider it for a moment. “You’d be wasted.”

 

“Which is the only reason I’m not taking you up on that very tempting offer,” Bruce replies. “Also, you’d probably drive me insane.”

 

“Probably,” Tony agrees.

 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door, spoiling the moment, and Tony rolls off the bed, straightening out his clothes. Bruce sits up, doing the same, and they’re once again just two very close friends hanging out.

 

“Yeah?” Tony calls.

 

One of the maids, Martha, opens the door a crack. “Mr. Stane would like to see you, sir.”

 

She’s never called him “sir” before; that’s always been his father. “I’ll be right down,” he replies past the lump in his throat, and she closes the door again. He looks at Bruce. “You want to join me?”

 

“You want me there?” Bruce asks. “Because I’ll do whatever you want.”

 

Tony feels curiously reluctant to introduce Bruce to Obadiah. “No, it’s cool. Relax, sleep for a little longer if you want, or do whatever. If it looks like we’re going to be more than an hour or two, I’ll send someone up for you.”

 

The truth is that Bruce is here for Tony, and Bruce _belongs_ to Tony in a way that no one else does.

 

Bruce stretches out on the bed. “You know me. Grad students are chronically short on sleep.”

 

Tony knows he’s not allowed, but he leans in for a kiss anyway. “Thank you, in case I haven’t said it yet.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Bruce replies after he breaks off the kiss. “I’m here for you.”

 

Obadiah is in his father’s study, standing in front of the big windows, his hands clasped behind his back.

 

“You wanted to see me, Obie?” Tony calls.

 

“Martha told me you had company,” Obadiah replies.

 

Tony shrugs. “It’s just Bruce. We met at science camp years ago.”

 

“This the boy you brought on vacation with you when you graduated from MIT?” Obadiah asks.

 

Tony feels oddly defensive. “He’s my best friend.”

 

“It’s good to have friends, especially in times like these,” Obadiah replies, turning to face Tony with a strained smile. “I’m glad he’s able to be here for you.”

 

Tony nods, unsettled. “Me, too.”

 

“I’ve made the arrangements for the funeral,” Obadiah says. “We’ll have it in Manhattan.”

 

Tony doesn’t want to think about the funeral, or anything to do with it. He doesn’t want to think about the future at all right now. “That’s good.”

 

“We’ll need to talk about transitioning the company,” Obadiah says. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re ready to take the reins just yet, my boy. You need time to grieve.”

 

Tony almost asks if Obadiah doesn’t need time to grieve, but he stops himself. He doesn’t feel ready to take over. Tony shouldn’t have been in this position for years—decades, even.

 

“Thanks,” he says instead. “For making the arrangements, and everything else.”

 

“Of course,” Obadiah replies. “That’s what I’m here for.”

 

Tony shifts. “Is there anything else?”

 

“Not right now,” Obadiah replies. “We’ll talk more after the funeral.”

 

Tony swallows, hearing the finality in Obadiah’s voice, and he feels as though the future is closing in around him. He’s shouldered his share of responsibility at the company since his graduation, but this is an entirely different level.

 

He doesn’t feel like an adult, not really. He doesn’t think he’s ready.

 

He doesn’t have a choice.

 

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees. “Um, Bruce’s aunt is coming in for the funeral. I told him I’d pick up the hotel room.”

 

Obadiah raises his eyebrows. “That’s your decision. Do you need money?”

 

“No, I’ve got it,” Tony replies.

 

“Is Bruce going to be staying here?”

 

“Just until the funeral,” Tony says.

 

Obadiah nods, another brief smile crossing his face. “It’s your house now, Tony. You can choose who stays here.”

 

“I guess so,” Tony says, choking out the words. “I’m still pretty tired.”

 

“Get some rest,” Obadiah advises. “Call if you need anything.”

 

He goes back upstairs and finds Bruce asleep on his bed, and he sits down in his chair, putting his face in his hands.

 

“Hey, come here,” Bruce murmurs sleepily. “Unless you want to do something else.”

 

“You want to take a drive?” Tony asks desperately. “Or go for a walk, or something? I need to get out of here, man.”

 

Bruce pushes himself up to sit. “Yeah. You mind if I freshen up real quick?”

 

“Go for it,” Tony says, waving at the door to the en suite bathroom.

 

He rubs his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, and he has no idea how he’s going to do this—any of it.

 

Tony hears Bruce emerge, and he doesn’t look up until Bruce’s warm hands cup his face, tipping Tony’s head up.

 

Bruce’s eyes are warm and sympathetic, and he presses his lips to Tony’s forehead. Tony, in response, leans his forehead against Bruce’s stomach, and feels Bruce run a hand through his hair in a soothing motion.

 

And Tony lets the tears fall.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce insists on driving, because he’s none too sure of Tony’s state of mind—or his sobriety, since he’d been pretty drunk just a few hours ago—and they tool around the more rural areas of Long Island. There’s a sprinkling of snow on the ground, but the roads are clear, and Bruce drives slowly, with no destination in mind.

 

Tony falls into a restless sleep, his head resting against the passenger window, and Bruce just keeps driving, wanting to do what he can, knowing all too well how difficult the next couple of days are going to be.

 

He thinks it might actually be worse for Tony. Bruce had been in shock for a couple of weeks, passing through his mother’s funeral with a dazed numbness that didn’t lift until weeks later, only to give way to an anger so intense that his aunt had sent him to run laps around the block.

 

Eventually, Bruce had buried that rage deep, channeling it into proving his father wrong, into succeeding, and making a name for himself in his chosen field—proving he’s not the monster Brian Banner had claimed.

 

And while he wants to be here for Tony now, the circumstances are bringing up old memories, and old emotions he’d long since buried—of the loss of his parents, and the time he and Tony had stolen together.

 

He thinks it might be easier if he weren’t here now, but he would have sooner cut off his own arm than refuse Tony’s request.

 

Eventually, Bruce finds himself in the more populated areas of Long Island, and he finds fast food place and parks. Tony starts awake as soon as the truck stops. “Where are we?”

 

“Not really sure,” Bruce admits. “I’ve just been driving. Are you hungry? My treat.”

 

Tony rubs his eyes. “Yeah, but let’s go through the drive-through, huh? I don’t really want to risk the press right now.”

 

They eat cheap burgers and rapidly cooling fries on the way back to Tony’s place, and there’s a part of Bruce that wants to suggest sharing a bed. If he could be sure no one would find out, he might have, but he’s not sure they can risk it.

 

Tony is—or will be—the head of Stark Industries, a company that makes most of its money through defense contracts. Maybe if Tony had already proven himself, if he’d made a hundred ingenious weapons to inflict maximum damage, he might have been able to do anything he wanted with his personal life.

 

Right now, though, a relationship with another man is a liability, and Bruce knows there’s a good chance that people will talk.

 

When they’d been in Europe, they’d always made sure that it looked like both beds had been slept in, that they didn’t spend an entire day in their hotel room, and that they didn’t indulge in public displays of affection.

 

Tony’s not thinking straight right now, and no wonder, but that means Bruce has to do the thinking for both of them.

 

“They should have made up the room next to mine,” Tony says as Bruce pulls up in front of the Stark mansion. “Or you could share my bed.”

 

“If we were alone in the house, or we could be sure we would be alone, I would say yes,” Bruce says quietly. “But there’s a reason we didn’t stay together after Europe, and that hasn’t changed.”

 

Tony swallows. “I hate this.”

 

“For the record, so do I,” Bruce agrees quietly. He hates that he has to be the voice of reason, that he can’t give Tony exactly what he wants, for as long as he wants it.

 

In an ideal world, Bruce could finish up his Ph.D., and they’d find a way to be together. Bruce would do everything in his power to support Tony during this transition, and they’d tell the rest of the world to go fuck itself.

 

Bruce has known for a long time that they don’t live in an ideal world.

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tony says wearily. “Separate rooms, then.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Bruce offers, and reaches out to put his hand over Tony’s.

 

Tony turns his hand to interlace their fingers. “So am I.”

 

They squeeze tightly, and then they release their grip at the same time.

 

Bruce doesn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning in the very comfortable bed in the guest room just down the hall from Tony, wrestling with the urge to give up and go to Tony’s room. He wants to crawl into bed next to him and say, “Fuck it,” to the rest of the world.

 

How fucking _cold_ is Bruce being? How selfish? He can tell himself that he’s trying to protect Tony, but isn’t he trying to protect himself just as much?

 

If people think that Tony is gay, his wealth might shelter him. Stark Industries is still the biggest name in weapons; the military probably wouldn’t pull its contracts even if Tony’s in a relationship with a man. Bruce doesn’t have that protection.

 

Bruce rolls out of bed and pulls on a t-shirt, padding down the hall to Tony’s room, deciding that he’ll let Tony make the decision.

 

When he opens the door, Tony appears deeply asleep, the faint light from the waxing moon casting shadows on his face.

 

He stops, his hand tightening around the doorknob, and then he backs out slowly. He’ll let Tony sleep; tomorrow is soon enough to say something, and to make the offer.

 

Bruce falls asleep sometime just before dawn, and he sleeps hard for a few hours, waking up shortly before noon. Tony’s room is empty when he checks, and he’s heading to find him when a maid stops him.

 

“Mr. Banner, you have a phone call,” she says.

 

Bruce winces. “You can just call me Bruce. Did they say who it was?”

 

“It’s Elaine Walters, sir,” she replies.

 

“Um, great.” Bruce looks around. “Is there somewhere I can take it?”

 

“Right this way.”

 

She leads him to what looks like a library or an office of some kind, and Bruce picks up the phone and punches the line number that she indicates.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Bruce, sweetheart,” his aunt says. “How are you?”

 

“I’m okay,” Bruce replies, wondering abruptly how his aunt and uncle would react if he told them he was in love with a guy, and not a girl. “Are you in town already?”

 

“We’re on a layover in Chicago,” she replies. “Jen arranged to take her last final a little early. We should be at La Guardia in a few hours.”

 

Bruce swallows. That’s not much time to get things figured out. “It will be great to see you. Do you have reservations?”

 

“The Crowne Plaza in Manhattan,” his aunt replies. “We thought we’d take a few days and make a weekend of it. You’re welcome to join us.”

 

Bruce isn’t sure he can refuse, although he’s not sure what Tony’s going to be doing. “I have to head back to school on Sunday,” he replies. “But I’d love to see you guys while I can.”

 

“Well, feel free to come by tonight,” she says. “If you’re too busy with Tony, I’ll understand.”

 

“He might want to come with me,” Bruce replies.

 

“It would be good to see him.” She pauses. “Are you really doing okay?”

 

Bruce tries to inject some feeling in his voice. “I’m fine, really. I’ll see you soon.”

 

He’s not sure where Tony is, and he doesn’t see any of the staff around, so he starts to wander, listening for voices. Not finding anybody on that floor, he heads down the stairs.

 

Loud voices reach him as soon as he’s on the main level, and he heads that direction almost in spite of himself. He recognizes Tony’s voice immediately, but he can’t place the other person’s, although it’s definitely that of a man.

 

“That’s none of your business!” Tony insists heatedly, his words becoming clearer as Bruce gets closer to the source.

 

“It is my business,” says the unknown man. “Like it or not, you _are_ the face of Stark Industries.”

 

“I told you, Bruce is my friend, Obie,” Tony replies, and Bruce realizes that he has to be talking to Obadiah Stane.

 

Stane’s tone is patient. “Think about what it looks like.”

 

“Like we’re friends?” Tony suggests, his voice sharp with sarcasm.

 

“Like you’re together,” Stane replies.

 

“I’m not gay!” Tony says hotly.

 

Bruce stops cold. He probably wouldn’t identify as gay either, and he’d been the one to insist that they not _be_ together right now, but it still hurts. It hurts far more than he’d thought it would.

 

“I’m not saying you are.” Stane still sounds calm and reasonable. “But perception is everything, and the media’s focus is on you right now. It’s going to _be_ on you for a long time to come. Even if they don’t think you’re together, they might think this Banner kid is riding your coattails, taking advantage.”

 

“We’ve known each other since I was 14!” Tony says angrily. “He’s not like that.”

 

“Perception—”

 

“I know about perception!” Tony shouts. “And anybody who doesn’t get that I’d call the only friend who was available to come when my parents died can go fuck themselves!”

 

Bruce backs away at that point, not wanting to hear any more. He’s heard too much as it is.

 

He heads upstairs and grabs his duffel, leaving the dress clothes hanging in the closet, figuring that he can come back for them if he needs to.

 

Right now, Bruce just wants some distance.

 

He runs into Martha as he’s heading for the front door, and sees surprise cross her face as she spots him, right before her expression turns impassive. “Mr. Banner?”

 

“Tell Tony that my aunt and cousin are in town, and they’re staying at the Crowne Plaza,” Bruce says. “I’m going to pick them up from the airport, and I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight, but I’ll definitely be here tomorrow.”

 

Martha nods. “Is everything okay, sir? I could have a car arrange to pick up your aunt—”

 

“No,” Bruce says quickly. “I’ve got it. I haven’t seen them in months, so I’d like to meet them myself. I just want Tony to know I’m coming back.”

 

Martha glances down the hall, and he thinks he sees sympathy in her eyes. “I’ll let him know myself.”

 

“Thanks.” Bruce says sincerely. “Tell him—tell him my aunt wants to see him if he’s got the time.”

 

Martha nods, and Bruce leaves quickly before he can change his mind.

 

He feels like a coward, but he tells himself that he’s doing the right thing. This way, his aunt and Jen won’t have to take a taxi, and he’ll get to spend time with them.

 

Maybe it’s for the best.

 

Bruce has a map of New York City in his glove compartment that he’d picked up on his way here. He’s good with maps, and he figures out where he needs to go, and then he fights through traffic to get to La Guardia.

 

He parks in the garage, and figures out what baggage carousel they’ll be at, and then sits on the floor nearby, even though he still has a couple of hours until their plane is due to arrive.

 

Bruce buries his head in his hands and takes deep breaths, trying to sort through the anger and the hurt and the uncertainty.

 

It’s not like he blames Tony, because he doesn’t, but he feels all fucked up right now, and he doesn’t know what his next step ought to be.

 

He stands up when he sees a large number of travelers approaching the baggage claim, straightening his shirt and taking a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He doesn’t want his aunt to think that anything is wrong—well, anything more than the obvious.

 

His aunt and cousin come into view, both of them wearing jeans and sweatshirts, Jen’s bearing the mascot of her high school, and his aunt’s with the insignia of the Los Angeles sheriff’s department.

 

“Bruce!” Aunt Elaine calls. “You didn’t have to pick us up. I thought you and Tony would be busy.”

 

“He had some things to do with Mr. Stane,” Bruce replies. “And I wanted to spend some time with you guys.”

 

His aunt pulls him into a hug. “Well, it’s good to see you. I hope we’ll get to see Tony at some point.”

 

“I know he’d like to see you,” Bruce says.

 

Jen pulls him into a hard, tight hug, too. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Bruce replies.

 

“Tony?”

 

“Less fine,” Bruce admits, “but that’s to be expected.”

 

He helps them collect their bags and leads the way back to his truck. They have to crowd into the cab, especially since the truck is a manual, but Jen gamely sits in the middle and lets Bruce shift around her.

 

Traffic is a nightmare this time of day, and Bruce holds onto his temper with some difficulty, his hands tightening around the steering wheel until his knuckles go white.

 

“Bruce?” his aunt prompts.

 

He takes a deep breath. “I’m good.”

 

She’s walked him through breathing exercises before, back when he’d been a kid and would get so angry he’d forget to breathe.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce can see her concerned expression, and he knows she’s going to want to have a serious talk with him later.

 

Thankfully, he makes it to the Crowne Plaza without killing anybody or losing his temper, although it’s a near thing. “I’ll let you guys off and park.”

 

He finds the closest parking garage and winces at the price, although he’ll pay it. It’s either that, or going back to Tony’s house now, and Bruce isn’t ready to do that yet.

 

He’ll have a night with his family, and be ready to face Tony and even Obadiah Stane tomorrow.

 

They go out for dinner and Jen updates him on how her senior year is going, and her college plans, and her planned major. Bruce lets her do all the talking, happy to have a distraction. Her concerns are refreshingly simple in comparison to his current dilemma.

 

Not that Bruce would actually say that out loud. He might be a patronizing asshole in his head, but he knows how to avoid sounding like one.

 

Jen begs off after dinner, having yawned her way through dessert, and his aunt says, “Why don’t we get a drink?”

 

They sit at the hotel bar, and his aunt orders a glass of red wine, while Bruce gets a beer. “You’re not worried about me drinking?” Bruce asks after they have their order and find a quiet table in the corner.

 

His aunt smiles. “You’re so much like your mother, you know that?”

 

Bruce winces, uncertain of how to respond. He remembers his mother as being kind and selfless, and he doesn’t feel like he’s either of those things.

 

“I believe that if drinking was going to be a problem for you, you would have ordered a soda,” she continues. “I know you, Bruce, and for that reason, I know there’s something going on that you’re not telling me, and that you’re hurting. You don’t have to tell me what it is, but I wanted you to know.”

 

Bruce turns his glass. “Something happened when I was in Europe with Tony.”

 

“Ah. I thought that might be it.”

 

Bruce looks up, surprised. “You knew?”

 

She reaches across the table to squeeze his hand. “Sweetheart, I’m not blind. I’ve seen you two together.”

 

Bruce feels sick, thinking about Stane’s words from earlier. “Is it really that obvious?”

 

“Not obvious,” she says slowly, taking a sip of wine. “But it’s clear that you both care for each other. Most people will see what they want to see. Do you not want anyone to know?”

 

“Can you tell me that it wouldn’t make a difference?” Bruce demands, keeping his voice low. “That people wouldn’t care?”

 

She sighs. “No, I can’t.”

 

“Stane was talking to Tony this morning about me, and I overheard,” Bruce admits. “Tony doesn’t need this right now. He’s got enough to deal with as it is.”

 

His aunt’s expression is both wistful and sad. “I wish I could tell you that love is enough, and that as long as you love each other, nothing else matters. But is it just what others will think that’s holding you back?”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “What we had was—it was like a dream, one so good that you don’t want to wake up, you know? If we went public and things went bad, I really don’t think I could bear it.”

 

He feels like a coward, saying that out loud, but it’s the truth. Bruce loves Tony so damn much, he would rather end things now and feel the ache of loss, then watch things slowly turn sour.

 

And Bruce can’t help but think that it would. The odds aren’t in their favor.

 

His aunt pats his hand. “There’s no getting around regrets, Bruce. Either way, no matter what you decide to do, you’ll have things you wish you’d done differently, or you’ll wonder if you made the right choice.”

 

Bruce nods, not saying anything. “What do you think Uncle Morris would say if he knew?”

 

His aunt laughs, although there’s something brittle in the sound. “I don’t think he’d understand, but that has no bearing on my feelings.”

 

Bruce looks out over the bar, wishing desperately that this could be easier, but there are no easy answers.

 

“It’s not fair,” his aunt says softly. “I’m so sorry, Bruce.”

 

And Bruce knows that he’s already made up his mind.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony’s still reeling from his conversation with Obadiah when he goes back upstairs to find Bruce. He feels ready to bounce off the walls, ready to go out and drive too fast, to do something stupid and self-destructive that’s going to put him on the front page.

 

He wants Bruce to stop him. Or join him. Tony isn’t sure which he’d prefer at the moment.

 

Bruce’s room is empty, his bed neatly made, and Tony frowns. An empty bed isn’t too worrisome, but the absence of Bruce’s duffel at the foot of the bed is. He’s turning away to go find him when Martha rounds the corner. “Master Tony? Mr. Banner left a message for you.”

 

Tony stiffens. “A message?”

 

“He was going to meet his aunt and cousin at the airport,” Martha says. “He said to tell you that he might not be back tonight, but he would be here tomorrow.”

 

Tony swallows. “Did he say where they were staying?”

 

“The Crowne Plaza,” Martha replies, her face perfectly impassive.

 

Tony feels as though he’s been set adrift, like the one solid thing he’d had is gone. He can’t believe that Bruce would just leave like that without even saying anything to him. Unless—

 

“Did anything happen before he left?” Tony asks.

 

Martha hesitates, which is enough to tell Tony that he’s on the right track.

 

“Did he hear me arguing with Obadiah?” he demands.

 

“I’m sure I have no idea what Mr. Banner heard,” Martha replies, in a tone of voice that suggests otherwise. “But it’s possible, sir.”

 

There is no part of the conversation he’d just had with Obadiah that Tony would want Bruce to overhear.

 

“Okay,” Tony says. “Thanks, Martha.”

 

He has no idea what to do, what he _should_ do. He could go to the airport and intercept them, or stake out the lobby of the Crowne Plaza.

 

Or he could let it go; he could let Bruce go, since that’s what he seems to want.

 

Tony knows where his dad kept the booze—pretty much in every study, and there are several of them. He heads for the closest one and the bottle of whiskey stashed in a drawer, and then he proceeds to get incredibly drunk.

 

He stays in his room with the door locked, ignoring the occasional knock from the household staff, although he does respond when Martha threatens to call Obadiah. Then he says, “I’m fine!”

 

Tony still expects Bruce to turn up. There’s a part of him that keeps on waiting, that thinks Bruce wouldn’t just _leave_.

 

And as he’s puking his guts up after drinking a good part of a bottle of whiskey, he realizes that Bruce isn’t coming.

 

He passes out on the bathroom floor, and when he wakes up, it’s early, and his head is pounding. His mouth tastes like ass, and he has another day to get through before his parents’ funeral.

 

Tony rolls over onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. He’s tempted just to stay there, but he clambers onto his feet.

 

He’s not going to get anywhere by lying down and giving up. Whether Bruce is with him or not, Tony has a life to live. Eventually, he’s going to be in charge of Stark Industries. It’s time he starts acting like it.

 

And right now, that means finding Bruce. It occurs to him that if Bruce had overheard him and Obadiah—and Tony’s fairly certain that’s the only thing that would have run him off—he might not feel comfortable coming back to the house just yet.

 

He gets cleaned up, finds some clothing, and drinks a large glass of water. Tony’s stomach isn’t up to breakfast, but he takes a couple of aspirin and calls for a car.

 

It’s just after the morning rush hour, so it doesn’t take long to get into the city. The driver pulls up in front of the hotel and asks, “Do you want me to stay, Mr. Stark?”

 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll call for a ride, or I’ll catch one with my friend,” Tony replies. “Thanks.”

 

The clerk at the front desk won’t give Tony the Walters’ room number, not even when Tony offers a bribe.

 

“Please,” Tony says, tipping his sunglasses up on his head. “They’re here for my parents’ funeral, and I just want to see them before things get crazy.”

 

“I can call their room, sir, but I can’t give you their room number for security reasons,” the clerk says.

 

“Tony?”

 

He turns to see Jen behind him, carrying a paper sack and a cardboard carryout container with three cups of coffee. “Hey,” he says. “You got taller.”

 

“That’s what happens when you let a few years go by in between visits,” Jen replies, setting the bag and carrying container down on the front desk and then throwing herself at Tony, who holds her tightly.

 

Jen is the closest he’s ever going to come to having a sister, and he feels the same sort of fondness for her as he imagines he might if they were related.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Jen murmurs into his ear.

 

“Thanks,” Tony replies, pulling back. “Have you seen Bruce?”

 

“He stayed with us last night,” Jen replies. “Mom and I shared a bed, and he took the other one. Just like old times.” She frowns. “Did something happen? Because he was really quiet yesterday, and it seemed weird that he’d be here when he could be with you.”

 

Tony pastes on a smile. “I was busy with Obadiah, and Bruce hadn’t seen you guys in a while. No big deal.”

 

Jen frowns. “Well, come on up. Mom’s going to be excited to see you. Sorry I didn’t get you a cup of coffee.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony says. “I know where to find some if I need it.”

 

He carries the coffee for her and realizes that he’s going to need to find some, because it smells heavenly.

 

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asks on the elevator ride up.

 

Tony shrugs. “I guess.”

 

“I shouldn’t have asked that,” Jen says, wincing. “That was probably insensitive.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Tony says immediately. “It’s nice to have someone around who gives a damn.”

 

“I’m sure there are a lot of people who care, Tony,” Jen says.

 

Tony shakes his head. “You might be surprised.”

 

Jen looks troubled by that response, but she doesn’t try to argue with him. She knocks on the door and Bruce opens it, obviously surprised to see Tony. “Hey. You look terrible.”

 

“Thanks,” Tony replies, his tone heavy with sarcasm. “Too bad you missed out on a great night.”

 

Bruce sighs. “I’m sorry. I was going to head back out this morning.”

 

Jen slips past them. “I’ll let Mom know you’re here, Tony.”

 

Bruce pulls Tony inside and takes a cup of coffee from the carrier, handing Tony the cup and taking the carrier. “It looks like you need that more than I do right now. How much of the bottle did you drink?”

 

“More than enough to have a good time,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce opens his mouth to reply, but the bathroom door opens and Elaine steps out into the small sitting room.

 

“Tony, it’s so good to see you,” she says, and Tony knows that she means it. She’s always happy to see him, and she hugs him tightly. “I won’t ask how you’re doing, because you’ve probably heard that enough already.”

 

Tony tightens his grip. “It’s really good to see you. Thanks for coming.”

 

“Of course,” she replies, hanging on another moment longer. “Is there anything I can do?”

 

“You’re doing it,” he says.

 

“Do you have much to do today?” she asks.

 

Tony shakes his head. “No, not much. I was actually hoping to steal your nephew for the day.”

 

“Of course,” Elaine replies. “Jen and I were going to do some shopping. I’m sure you’d both be bored to tears.”

 

“Maybe we can get dinner tonight?” Tony suggests.

 

She smiles. “I would love to catch up.”

 

They leave shortly thereafter, taking their coffee and bagels with them, leaving him alone with Bruce.

 

“So, I’m sorry,” Bruce says quietly. “I shouldn’t have left the way I did.”

 

“You overheard my conversation with Obie,” Tony says.

 

Bruce sits down on the couch. “Yeah, I did.”

 

“He was out of line,” Tony says, sitting next to him and leaving a few inches between them.

 

“He’s got your best interests in mind,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony slumps back. “That doesn’t make him right.”

 

“I’m sorry I made things harder on you,” Bruce offers.

 

“Obadiah’s commentary aside, you don’t.” Tony rubs his eyes. “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

 

Bruce rests his hand on Tony’s leg. “No, I don’t think so. Aunt Elaine guessed.”

 

“That obvious?”

 

“She said she just knows us,” Bruce replies. “But if Obadiah suspected something…”

 

“So, after this, we keep it a secret,” Tony says quietly. “Nobody finds out. We don’t hang out in person. I’ll rig a way for us to keep in touch that no one can trace.”

 

Bruce puts an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “You want to stay here today? We can watch crappy TV. No one has to know.”

 

Tony presses his face to the side of Bruce’s neck. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

 

~~~~~

 

No one notices Bruce and his family at the funeral the next day among the crowds of mourners, and Bruce leaves the next morning to drive back to MIT.

 

And no one ever finds out that he and Tony spend the next fifteen years corresponding.


	5. Correspondence, 1991-2006

_October 1993_

 

From: AES

To: RBB

Date: 22:15, October 5, 1993

Re: LA

 

I’m sorry about the sheriff. Wish I could have come to the funeral. If I hadn’t been at a demo, I would have. I hope you know that. How are E and J holding up?

 

From: RBB

To: AES

Date: 22:57, October 5, 1993

Re: Re: LA

 

I know you would have been there if you could. We’re all doing okay. The U gave me some time off, and I think I might look for a position closer to home, try to be there for E. J’s buried herself in her school work. It’s hit her pretty hard, but you know how she felt about the sheriff.

 

From: AES

To: RBB

Date: 11:31, October 6, 1993

Re: Re: Re: LA

 

Stark Industries is always hiring bright young things. We have an office in LA.

 

From: RBB

To: AES

Date: 12:02, October 6, 1993

Re: Re: Re: Re: LA

 

Not really interested in building weapons, but thanks for the offer.

 

From: AES

To: RBB

Date: 12:12, October 6, 1993

Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: LA

 

Offer’s always open.

 

Tony shuts down the window and makes sure he’s logged off the secure server. Maybe they’re both being a little paranoid, but he’s got paparazzi breathing down his neck most of the time, and he’s worked overtime to give them something to talk about other than his past.

 

The tragedy of his parents’ deaths, and his own meteoric rise to head of Stark Industries, means that anything that happened before December 17, 1991, has been effectively wiped out. They talk about his brilliance, and the fact that he graduated summa cum laude from MIT, and his womanizing and partying.

 

Nobody looks below the surface, and Tony’s going to keep it that way.

 

_February 2000_

 

Bruce stares at Tony’s latest email and wonders how he’s supposed to respond. How is he supposed to tell his ex-boyfriend that he’s met someone new?

 

“Right,” he mutters. “Hi, I met someone new, her name is Betty, and I think I might be falling in love.”

 

They aren’t together, and God knows Tony hasn’t exactly been celibate, but this situation feels different. One night stands versus a serious relationship? He’s not sure how Tony’s going to respond, or even how to broach the subject in the first place.

 

Bruce closes down the window, deciding to put it off for a while.

 

“Hey.” Betty emerges from his bedroom, wearing his discarded shirt and nothing else. “What are you doing up?”

 

“Just sending an email,” Bruce replies.

 

Betty frowns. “So late?”

 

“A colleague had a question, and I couldn’t sleep,” Bruce says, wondering what she’d say if he told her the truth, that when he was fifteen, he met Tony Stark and fell in love with him. He wonders what Betty would say if he told her that they’d spent over a month in Europe together, and the only reason they’d broken up was because neither of them were willing to come out.

 

Or what she’d say if he told her that there’s a part of him that will always love Tony.

 

He’s not going to say any of that, of course.

 

“So dedicated,” Betty teases him. “That will take you far.”

 

“Too bad the funding seems to be drying up for radiation research,” Bruce replies, pushing back from the desk.

 

Betty sits in his lap. “There’s an opportunity I wanted to bring up. It’s back at Culver. I know you’ve said how much you enjoyed your time there.”

 

“And what does this particular opportunity entail?” Bruce asks, settling his hands on her hips.

 

“Faculty positions, plus a special research project,” Betty replies. “It’s classified, and you’ll have to have to sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

 

Bruce frowns. “That sounds ominous.”

 

“It’s the Army,” Betty replies with a laugh. “You know how they are about secrets.”

 

“I can guess, although I have no personal experience,” Bruce says.

 

“I know you’re wary, but the potential is amazing. This project could save lives,” Betty says. “And it could just be the beginning.”

 

“That sounds amazing,” Bruce admits.

 

Betty gives him a kiss. “So, you’ll think about it?”

 

“Definitely,” Bruce replies. “I’ll come back to bed as soon as I finish this email, okay?”

 

“Don’t be too long,” she says and disappears into the bedroom.

 

Bruce opens the window again and quickly types out an email.

 

From: RBB

To: AES

Date: 1:44, February 23, 2000

Re: [no subject]

 

I need you to check on something for me with your military contacts. I’m being recruited for a secret project involving radiation at Culver. I don’t know more, because I have to sign an NDA before I can be read in. Any help would be appreciated.

 

He’s not surprised when a reply hits his in-box just a few minutes later.

 

From: AES

To: RBB

Date: 1:49, February 23, 2000

Re: Re: [no subject]

 

I’ll look into it and call you tomorrow on a secure connection. 10 pm, be alone.

 

Bruce sends back a quick, “Will do,” and then goes to bed.

 

The next night, he turns down an evening with Betty citing a need to grade the latest batch of quizzes, which is exactly what he does right up until 10, when his computer chimes with an incoming secure video conferencing call.

 

Bruce hits accept, and Tony’s face fills the screen. “What have you gotten yourself into, Brucie?”

 

He laughs, because it’s always a pleasure to see Tony, even if it’s not in person. “You tell me. If you can’t find the answers, they’re not there to find.”

 

“Oh, I have answers,” Tony replies. “At least I know that General Thaddeus Ross is running a new project out of Culver University, one that requires an expert in gamma radiation, and an expert in cellular biology.”

 

“I knew that already,” Bruce says. “They came to me.”

 

Tony snorts. “There’s that strut I knew you had. Knowing what I know about some of the other projects that Ross has worked on, and your expertise, I’m guessing that he’s trying to resurrect the super soldier program.”

 

“That’s more than just an educated guess,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony shrugs. “That information is also classified.”

 

“Come on, Tony,” Bruce says. “If I’m going to even consider turning to the dark side, I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”

 

Tony’s expression turns serious. “Don’t. The super soldier program eats people alive.”

 

“That’s what she meant,” Bruce murmurs. “About the potential to save lives.”

 

Tony’s gaze is sharp. “Let me guess, Betty Ross told you that. How long have you two been dating?”

 

Bruce doesn’t bother trying to lie. “A few months. How did you know?”

 

“You’re considering an offer to work on an Army project when you’ve turned down every single opportunity I’ve ever thrown out there,” Tony says. “General Ross’ daughter? That takes _cajones_.”

 

Bruce winces. “Tony…”

 

“Just one question.”

 

Bruce nods warily. “Shoot.”

 

“Are you happy?”

 

Bruce huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I am.”

 

“That’s all I need to know,” Tony replies. “Just—think twice before you do this.”

 

“Why do you think I called you?” Bruce asks. “Thanks.”

 

“Any time,” Tony says. “Now, let’s get down to the real subject of tonight’s call. Did you get the equations I sent you?”

 

“I did,” Bruce admits. “But I’m not doing your homework for you.”

 

“Come on, this is right up your alley,” Tony cajoles. “I will pay you our standard consulting fee.”

 

“I don’t have a standard fee,” Bruce objects.

 

Tony spins in his chair. “Then I’ll pay you Stark Industry’s standard fee. I know your grant runs out soon.”

 

Bruce frowns. “I’m not a charity case.”

 

“No, you’re not. If you were, I’d cut you a check, which I am very good at,” Tony shoots back. “Instead, I’m asking for your help to figure out how this asshole is trying to sell me a bill of goods, because this looks too good to be true, and I need another pair of eyes.”

 

Bruce has no idea why he’s arguing, but he feels honor bound to do it. “You could do that.”

 

“I’m a very busy man,” Tony says. “And this is actually perfect. I get to call you an unnamed consultant.”

 

“Think this secret agent stuff is ever going to pay off?” Bruce asks wryly.

 

Tony smirks. “It’s paying off right now, since I’m seeing your smiling face.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bruce orders. “I’ll take a look at it. I should know something in a few days.”

 

“You’re the best,” Tony says. “I’ll call you in a couple of days, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel.”

 

Tony’s image winks out, and Bruce blows out a breath. The truth is, he could use a little extra cash right now, and he’d peeked at the files Tony sent. It looks interesting, and he’s curious, as Tony probably knew he would be.

 

Anybody who stumps Tony, even for a minute, is probably someone who should be watched carefully.

 

_March 2000_

 

From: RBB

To: AES

Date: 7:46, March 2, 2000

Re: [no subject]

 

I’ve decided to take the job.

 

From: AES

To: RBB

Date: 9:12, March 2, 2000

Re: Seriously, don’t.

 

I thought you were going to think twice about this.

 

From: RBB

To: AES

Date: 9:14, March 2, 2000

Re: Re: Seriously, don’t.

 

I thought about it a lot. Don’t be this way, T. You know you’re not objective when it comes to the super soldier program.

 

From: AES

To: RBB

Date: 9:21, March 2, 2000

Re: Re: Re: Seriously, don’t.

 

I have experience, remember? Objectivity isn’t always required.

 

From: RBB

To: AES

Date: 9:37, March 2, 2000

Re: It’s done.

 

I signed the contract already. We’re moving in June. I’d send you my new address, but since you’re stalking me, I doubt I’ll need to.

 

“Fuck,” Tony snarls. Bruce isn’t wrong—he’s _not_ objective about this—but it feels as though Bruce is using what he knows about Tony as a weapon to win this argument.

 

And maybe it’s Tony’s fault for arguing in the first place, but he’s seen where the super soldier program leads. He’d rather put his faith in bombs and bullets, because people always let you down.

 

He just wishes Bruce would fucking _listen_ to him, but it looks like he’s lost that privilege, too.

 

_September 2003_

 

From: RBB

To: AES

Date: 19:04, September 14, 2003

Re: This is getting embarrassing.

 

You do realize that I have a job, right? One that keeps me very busy. I can’t keep doing your homework for you.

 

From: AES

To: RBB

Date: 20:11, September 14, 2003

Re: Re: This is getting embarrassing.

 

I’m asking for a favor. Please. Pretty please.

 

From: RBB

To: AES

Date: 20:23, September 14, 2003

Re: Begging is not becoming.

 

I thought you never begged.

 

From: AES

To: RBB

Date: 20:38, September 14, 2003

Re: Re: Begging is not becoming.

 

I think you know differently. Come on, B.

 

From: RBB

To: AES

Date: 21:03, September 14, 2003

Re: Re: Re: Begging is not becoming.

 

Fine. I want my regular fee.

 

From: AES

To: RBB

Date: 21:07, September 14, 2003

Re: Re: Re: Re: Begging is not becoming.

 

When do I skimp on your fee? Saving up for your wedding?

 

From: RBB

To: AES

Date: 22:00, September 14, 2003

Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Begging is not becoming.

 

Not in a hurry to get there. Call me in a few days, and I’ll have your answers.

 

_May 2006_

 

Tony probably looks forward to his calls with Bruce a little more than is healthy, but Bruce is the only person in the world who is Tony’s friend without business being involved.

 

Except when Tony brings it up, but he figures that’s one way to keep Bruce in his life. Maybe that’s the only way to keep Bruce in his life.

 

Tony will do whatever it takes.

 

“Tell me you have something for me,” Tony says as soon as Bruce answers his call.

 

“How many people are on your payroll?” Bruce asks, sounding exasperated.

 

Tony offers his most charming grin. “Too many to count, but you’re the smartest guy I know.”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “I do have a day job, and I’m kind of under the gun right now.”

 

“Anything I can help with?” Tony asks.

 

“The Army is going to pull our funding if we don’t come up with results,” Bruce replies. “Preferably yesterday.”

 

Tony winces. “I’m sorry to bother you then.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce says with a genuine smile. “Your call is the best thing to happen to me today.”

 

“Now you’re just sweet talking me,” Tony teases. “How’s Betty?”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Fine. Still working on a solution.”

 

There’s something in his expression that worries Tony, and he says, “Promise you’ll call me before you do anything drastic.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“I’m serious,” Tony insists. “Promise me.”

 

“I promise,” Bruce says. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

 

Tony doesn’t try to keep him, although he’s worried. He’s made his feelings about the project very clear, and Bruce has ignored him.

 

Granted, Tony isn’t exactly objective when it comes to the super soldier program, but he’s watched Bruce gradually get more and more obsessed over the last few years. Tony’s only claim on Bruce at the moment is their shared history and the little side jobs he’s been having Bruce do.

 

Tony can’t help but feel that he’s losing Bruce, and he just wants to hold on that much tighter, even if it’s a bad idea.

 

He does what he always does when he needs a distraction—he buries himself in engine parts and ignores the rest of the world.

 

Pepper enters his workshop while he’s still waiting for Bruce’s call a couple of days later. Bruce is clearly not in a hurry to make a decision, or put Tony out of his misery.

 

“You missed a meeting,” she announces, sounding annoyed.

 

“I’m not interested in meetings,” Tony says. “I’m waiting for an important call.”

 

“They can leave a message,” Pepper replies, exasperated. Tony has the sudden thought that she and Bruce would probably get along really well. “It’s the board.”

 

“And I own a controlling share of the company, so they technically work for me,” Tony says dismissively. “This is important.”

 

“The board meetings _are_ important,” Pepper insists. “And they don’t work _for_ you, and you know it.”

 

Tony waves. “Send me the minutes.”

 

“Tony!”

 

Tony turns to look at her. “Pepper, please. This really is important. I’m waiting for a phone call, and I need to be here when it comes in.”

 

Pepper sighs. “Is there anything I need to do?”

 

“It’s a personal matter,” Tony insists.

 

“I wish you’d tell me what’s going on,” Pepper complains. “You haven’t been yourself the last few days.”

 

Tony turns back to his engine. “And once I take this phone call, I promise I’ll be back to normal.”

 

“You’ve never been normal,” Pepper replies, but she sounds fond. “Tell me if you need anything.”

 

“Always!” Tony calls, and breathes a sigh of relief when she leaves.

 

He knows he can trust Pepper, but he has a habit of secrecy where it concerns Bruce, and he’s not inclined to drop it now.

 

As far as Pepper knows, Tony will fuck anything in a metaphorical skirt. No one knows he occasionally bats for the other team.

 

Well, that he batted for the other team once, but he’d go back in a heartbeat if Bruce called.

 

He’s actually napping on the couch later that evening when JARVIS wakes him. “Sir, you have a phone call from Dr. Banner.”

 

“I’m awake,” Tony says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Put it on the screen.”

 

Bruce’s face fills the monitor. “For the record, this is not drastic.”

 

“The fact that you led with that tells me you’re probably wrong,” Tony says, getting to his feet and moving closer to the camera. He glances at the clock, and it’s just after 10 pm, their usual time for phone calls. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to try it out on myself,” Bruce admits. “I know this is going to work, Tony. I know I’ve got this.”

 

Tony’s voice is sharp as he asks, “Are you _insane_?”

 

“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same if you knew it was going to work,” Bruce says, and Tony can see that he looks incredibly tired.

 

“Have you tried it on anybody else?” Tony demands. “No? Then you _don’t_ know.”

 

“What? You don’t trust me?” Bruce asks. “I know what I’m doing!”

 

Tony glares. “You’re panicking, and you want this to work, which is different than knowing it will!”

 

“The Army wants results, and I can get them,” Bruce protests. “It’s not ready for human trials, and I wouldn’t ask anybody else to volunteer, but I can do it.”

 

“So, what?” Tony asks, hearing the bitterness in his own voice. “You won’t agree to work for Stark Industries because we make weapons, but you’ll willingly agree to make yourself into one?”

 

“I think you know me better than that,” Bruce snaps, his face darkening in anger. “And your bombs don’t discriminate, Tony. At least my work will _protect_ people. It’s protecting soldiers. I would think you’d be in favor of that.”

 

“You don’t think that’s what I’m doing?” Tony asks, his voice rising. “Our weapons make the world a better place! And I don’t think you can afford to get on your high horse about defense contracts. You’re dating one.”

 

Bruce makes an angry noise. “That’s what you think I’m dating Betty for? Her contacts to General Ross?”

 

“That certainly didn’t hurt,” Tony snaps. “You dated me, didn’t you?”

 

“We never dated,” Bruce replies. “We fucked. A lot. And if you think we did that much just because of who you are, you don’t know me all that well, do you?”

 

Tony feels a rising panic. “Bruce—that’s not what I meant. You know that.”

 

“I’m doing this,” Bruce says coldly. “I have to do this. I don’t expect you to understand.”

 

“Think about this!” Tony says.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last few days. I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

 

Bruce ends the call then, and Tony wants to call him back. He wants to get on a flight to Virginia now and physically stop him. Tony wants to kidnap Bruce until he comes to his senses.

 

Tony doesn’t do any of those things, because Bruce has made his choice, and for whatever reason, Bruce thinks what they had meant nothing.

 

He’ll regret that decision for years afterward, of course, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty.


	6. The Desert Years, 2006-2012

**Sevierville, Tennessee/New York City, May 2006**

 

Bruce is well away from Culver by the time he even has a moment to think about calling Tony. He operates mostly on instinct for the first few days, once he realizes what the Army wants out of him.

 

He’d been in shock at first—from the serum and the gamma radiation, from the transformation, from hurting Betty—but Ross’ words had shocked him out of it.

 

“You’re a weapon,” Ross had said with atavistic greed, and Bruce had remembered why he’d refused to work for Stark Industries—for Tony—all those years.

 

Bruce hadn’t wanted to make weapons, and now he is one, and Ross wants _him_ , wants what’s inside of him. Ross wants to study it, to cut it out of Bruce and _use_ it.

 

All unwittingly, Bruce had made himself into a weapon, and he damn well should have known better. Tony had warned him, and Bruce had disregarded those warnings, and now look where he’s at—in a cheap motel room in Tennessee, after having hitchhiked, too afraid to use anything but cash lest the Army find him.

 

And he could call Tony. Maybe he _should_ call Tony. They could figure this out together.

 

But Bruce has already hurt Betty; he’s lucky she even survived. He isn’t entirely sure what will set him off, or if it will happen again. He can’t be sure that Tony will be safe, and Bruce isn’t willing to risk him.

 

Bruce isn’t willing to risk anybody he loves.

 

He wonders what the Army will tell his aunt and Jen, if anyone will contact Tony. He wonders if Betty will say anything, or if she’ll go with the Army’s story.

 

His hand hovers over the telephone receiver, and then he pulls back.

 

Bruce can’t call Tony until he knows his triggers, until he can be sure he won’t hurt Tony the way he hurt Betty. If it’s strong emotion that causes the transformation, Tony will be especially vulnerable. Anybody Bruce cares for will be vulnerable, and his best bet is to lose himself among strangers.

 

Maybe, someday, he’ll be able to call Tony and tell him that he’d been right. Tony will be insufferable about it, of course, but Bruce can deal with that.

 

He lies back on the bed, fully clothed, and allows himself to imagine how that conversation might go.

 

~~~~~

 

“Sir, you have a phone call from Jennifer Walters,” Jarvis announces.

 

Since Tony has specifically ordered Jarvis to patch through any calls from Jen or Elaine, he says, “Put it through, J.”

 

“Jen, what’s up?” Tony asks as soon as he’s sure they’re connected. He’s elbows deep in an engine, using it as a distraction from worrying about Bruce, who should have called by now.

 

“Have you heard from Bruce?” she demands. “I can’t reach him, and he completely missed Mother’s Day. He _never_ misses that.”

 

Tony feels his worry coalesce into a hard knot of dread. “Have you tried calling him?”

 

“His number’s been disconnected,” Jen replies. “I tried calling Betty, and I left a message, but I haven’t gotten a response.”

 

“Let me look into it,” Tony replies. “I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything.”

 

“Mom’s really worried,” Jen says anxiously. “I know Bruce has been distracted by this project, but it’s not like him to just drop off the face of the planet. I mean, he’s been sending flowers to Mom on Mother’s Day since he was thirteen.”

 

Tony wishes he’d called Bruce before now. It’s been a week since Bruce had been scheduled to try the serum out on himself, and Tony had assumed that Bruce had just been too pissed off to call him.

 

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d fought badly enough to cause a breach, but one of them always caved and picked up the phone, or sent an email. Jen’s call is the first indication that something might have gone really wrong.

 

“I’ll call you in a few hours,” Tony promises. “Tell Elaine that I’m looking into it.”

 

He hangs up and says, “Jarvis, pull up everything you can find on Bruce’s secret project that I’m not supposed to know about. Pay special attention to communiqués between Ross and anybody else involved in the project.”

 

While Jarvis works on that, Tony tries remotely accessing Bruce’s computer with no success. He has a little more luck getting into Bruce’s email, but there’s been no activity—at least none going out. There’s no indication that Bruce has read his emails either, which is unusual.

 

Tony is beginning to think that it’s a long shot, but he shoots off an email and starts digging a little deeper.

 

“It appears that Dr. Betty Ross is in the hospital, sir,” Jarvis says as Tony’s poking around in Bruce’s files.

 

Tony stiffens. “How badly was she injured?”

 

“She was in the ICU for two days,” Jarvis replies. “She’s currently in stable condition and is expected to make a full recovery.”

 

“Was Bruce admitted?” Tony asks.

 

“There’s no record of Dr. Banner being admitted to the hospital,” Jarvis admits.

 

Tony takes a deep breath. “Keep working on it. Dig a little deeper.”

 

He stumbles upon gold as he’s looking through Bruce’s files, discovering the exact process he’d planned on using in his super soldier experiment. Tony wishes he’d snooped earlier, that he’d followed through on his impulse to kidnap Bruce until he came to his senses.

 

Because if what he’s reading is accurate, Bruce had been planning to expose himself to a fatal amount of gamma radiation. The fact that Bruce has dropped out of contact, and Betty is in the hospital while Bruce isn’t, suggests that things might not have gone very well.

 

After a moment’s consideration, Tony calls the physics department at Culver. Secret government experiment or no, the Stark name means something, and departmental secretaries tend to have access to a lot of information. They might not know everything, but even the most salacious gossip tends to have a grain of truth.

 

“Physics department, Jan speaking,” comes the pleasant voice.

 

“Tony Stark,” he says smoothly. “I was wondering if you’d help me get in touch with one of your faculty members in regards to a funding opportunity.”

 

“Mr. Stark?” she queries, momentarily flustered. “I’d be happy to help however you need. What faculty member did you want to reach?”

 

“Bruce Banner,” Tony replies.

 

There’s a long, somewhat awkward pause. “I’m sorry, but Dr. Banner is no longer employed by Culver University.”

 

“But that’s perfect!” Tony says, injecting some enthusiasm in his voice. “It means that nothing will interfere with him coming to work for Stark Industries.”

 

Jan lowers her voice. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but I have no way of reaching him. Dr. Ross is in the hospital, and we’ve been told to inform security if Dr. Banner turns up.”

 

“Is he responsible for Dr. Ross being in the hospital?” Tony asks, his tone conspiratorial.

 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Jan replies. “He was always so polite to me, I just can’t imagine that he’d do something like that.”

 

“Thank you, Jan,” Tony says and hangs up.

 

He’s torn on what to do next. If Bruce is in trouble—trouble that Tony can get him out of—it would make sense to keep their relationship a secret, even now. No one will ask questions about something they don’t know exists.

 

But that doesn’t help Tony figure out what happened to Bruce.

 

“I have the information you were looking for,” Jarvis announces, and begins displaying email after email. They’re clearly meant to be internal, and they talk about an accident, an overdose of gamma radiation, and the termination of the project.

 

Someone had helpfully attached a report, and the data indicated a fatal exposure to gamma radiation. If Betty had been hurt during the course of the procedure, and Bruce had been killed, that would explain everyone’s reticence.

 

He’s about ready to call Jen back when she phones him, Jarvis announcing her call again, and Tony can immediately tell that she’s crying.

 

“What happened?” he demands.

 

“Some Army officials just turned up at Mom’s front door,” Jen says, sounding as though she’s trying to get herself under control. “They said Bruce made a mistake. He was exposed to a lethal amount of radiation, and his mistake put Betty in the hospital. They don’t think he’s going to make it.”

 

Tony frowns. “Do they know where he is?”

 

“They’re trying to find him, but they don’t think they will in time,” Jen says, her voice hitching.

 

Tony doesn’t like the sound of that, but he also feels as though he’s missing something big. “Okay, let me give it a shot,” Tony says. “Maybe I can come up with something. I’m going to do everything I can, okay?”

 

Jen sniffs. “Not even you can work miracles, Tony.”

 

“But the Army might not be telling you the whole truth,” Tony argues, having been party to many a lie involving “training exercises.”

 

“Why would they lie to Mom?” Jen objects. “We’d find out!”

 

Tony can think of a few reasons that they wouldn’t, but he doesn’t say as much. “Just hang in there. Tell your mom I’m working on it, okay? I’ll call her tomorrow, no matter what I find.”

 

“Thanks, Tony,” Jen replies. “You know Mom always thought of you like another son.”

 

Tony smiles. “Your mom is the best, no question. Talk to you soon, Jen. Hang in there, okay?”

 

He keeps it together for her, but he thinks it’s probably a bad sign that the Army has told Elaine that Bruce isn’t coming home. They don’t like being wrong, and they probably wouldn’t have said as much if they thought there was any chance of Bruce turning up.

 

Unless, of course, they’re planning on making sure that Bruce doesn’t come back.

 

“Sir, I have a communication from General Ross,” Jarvis announces. “I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”

 

“Let’s hear it,” Tony says.

 

He doesn’t recognize the voice, but he trusts Jarvis’ programming. “We should consider the program a total bust with the loss of Dr. Banner.”

 

“Are you sure we can’t retrieve him?” comes the question.

 

“No, I’m certain of it,” Ross replies. “Banner should be considered KIA.”

 

Tony takes a deep breath and pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes. It’s not conclusive, he tells himself. There’s the possibility that Bruce is alive, and if he is, Tony’s going to find him.

 

If there’s no body, there’s still hope—but he can’t tell Elaine and Jen that. He can’t give them false hope.

 

What he can do is make sure they’re taken care of, quietly, and under the radar.

 

Tony can’t help but feel responsible. If he’d done something differently, if he hadn’t pushed so hard, maybe Bruce wouldn’t have used himself as a test subject.

 

And if Tony can’t save Bruce now, he can at least ensure that his family is taken care of.

 

“Jarvis, call Elaine Walters,” Tony says quietly.

 

She doesn’t answer, so he leaves a message. “Elaine, it’s me. I’m so, so sorry. Call me if you need anything at all.”

 

**Undisclosed Location, Ontario, Canada, July 2010**

 

“…still no word on billionaire Tony Stark, who went missing two months ago in Afghanistan when his convoy was attacked.” The radio announcer’s voice has that same bland concern that Bruce has been hearing for weeks. They don’t know Tony, and they probably don’t care about Tony, the person. All they care about is the story.

 

“It’s not looking good,” the co-anchor says. “With no ransom demand forthcoming, and no sign of Mr. Stark, it’s unlikely he’ll be found alive.”

 

“That means Stark Industries is likely to pass to Obadiah Stane, but Tony Stark will leave some—”

 

Bruce twists the knob viciously, and the silence that follows in its wake is deafening.

 

He’s been traveling all over the world for the last few years, looking for a cure, and he’s come up empty. His heart rate goes up, he gets angry, or he gets stressed, and he causes an incident, usually with a lot of property damage, if not loss of life.

 

And now, there’s no cure, and Tony is likely dead. Bruce can look forward to a long life on the run from the Army, no contact with friends or family for fear Ross will go after them to get to Bruce, and no hope of seeing Tony again.

 

If Bruce had to deal with just one of those things, he might not have dug out the gun, but it’s just too much.

 

He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d relied on the idea of Tony as a safety valve, someone he could always call if he really needed to.

 

And that just makes him feel worse, because it means he’d be using Tony, just like Obadiah Stane had accused him of doing years ago.

 

But it doesn’t matter because Tony is gone, and it’s possible they’ll never find the body in the Afghan mountains. Bruce had tried emailing Betty right after his fuck up, when he’d gone on the run, but he hadn’t received a response. He can only assume that she hadn’t wanted anything to do with him after he’d nearly killed her.

 

He’s so fucking tired—tired of running, tired of being hungry and cold and afraid all the time. He’s tired of being angry, and tired of losing control, knowing that he’s a danger to everyone _all the time._

 

Bruce is tired of hurting people. He’d never wanted that—he’d never wanted to hurt _anyone_.

 

And now it seems he can’t do anything _but_ hurt people.

 

He figures he has two options at this point—he can turn himself into the Army, let them figure out how to contain the Other Guy, and accept that they’ll take what’s inside him and weaponize it.

 

Or he can take himself out of the equation entirely.

 

Bruce’s hand shakes as he stares down at the gun, and he swallows hard. This possibility has been in his mind for some time, but now he doesn’t think he has a choice.

 

Eventually, he’ll be caught, and they’ll use him, or what’s in him. Or he can make sure he doesn’t hurt anybody else.

 

There’s no choice at all, really.

 

He walks out of the cabin, not wanting to cause a mess. He’ll go into the woods, and maybe, eventually, someone will find his body. Or maybe nature will do its own cover up job, picking his bones clean and scattering them to the four winds.

 

When he’s deep in the woods, he kneels in the deep mulch of the underbrush, and he puts the muzzle in his mouth.

 

And when he wakes up later in tattered garments, miles from where he’d been and the gun nowhere in sight, Bruce feels nothing but bitter disappointment.

 

**Malibu, California, July 2011**

 

Tony wanders upstairs in search of more coffee, having run out in the lab. He’s been working on a variety of projects, including a couple for SHIELD.

 

He still can’t believe they didn’t want him for their stupid Avengers Initiative. And after all he’d done to ensure world peace! This new relationship with Pepper isn’t even quite enough to take the sting out of the rejection.

 

Well, no matter. They’ll have to come to him eventually. He _is_ Iron Man, after all.

 

Although he’s still a little surprised to find Coulson sitting in his living room. He’d known they would come back to him, but hadn’t expected them to show up so soon.

 

“Agent,” Tony says. “What are you doing here? Need my help saving the world already?”

 

Coulson holds up a file. “We need your special skills on a project.”

 

“What, the arc reactor? The suit? My enormous brain?” Tony asks, pouring a cup of coffee. He pointedly doesn’t offer Coulson one.

 

“Your endless capacity to annoy people,” Coulson says.

 

Tony rolls his eyes. “I think that’s just a side effect of idiocy, particularly in the presence of my superior intellect.”

 

Coulson ignores him, which is probably his superpower, now that Tony thinks about it. “General Ross was in charge of a secret project utilizing Dr. Erskine’s super soldier experiments from the 40’s. The World Security Council wants to bring one of his subjects on board, which would be a very bad idea.”

 

Tony keeps his face impassive with some effort. “I’m not sure what that has to do with me.”

 

“We’d like you to convince Ross to hand the Abomination over to us,” Coulson replies, setting the folder down on the coffee table.

 

Tony makes no move to pick it up, remaining standing as he sips his coffee. “Who was this guy before he volunteered to be a guinea pig?”

 

“Career solider by the name of Emil Blonsky,” Coulson replies. “Excellent soldier, but a tad on the ruthless side. The serum hasn’t done him any favors.”

 

Tony swallows down his disappointment. “When was he exposed?”

 

“You remember that disturbance in Harlem?” Coulson asks. When Tony nods, he says, “That was him.”

 

Tony snorts. “So, when you say that you want me to convince Ross to hand this guy over, what you _mean_ is that you want me to annoy him so much that he refuses to play ball.”

 

“They did say you were a genius,” Coulson says with a bland little smile.

 

It’s always been a long shot, that Bruce had somehow survived, that he’s out there somewhere. Tony’s faith had been somewhat renewed after Afghanistan; if he could survive three months in a cave with a bunch of terrorists and having an electromagnet shoved in his chest, what’s to say that Bruce hadn’t done the equivalent?

 

But Bruce had never contacted him, and there’s been no word in the last five years. Of course Ross would continue his project after Bruce had failed, and this Blonsky’s existence seems like another piece of evidence that Bruce hadn’t made it.

 

“When did this guy turn into the Abomination, or whatever you called him?” Tony asks.

 

“Last year,” Coulson replies. “Ross recruited him.”

 

 _He would have_ , Tony thinks, deeply bitter. If not for Ross, Bruce would still be alive.

 

And maybe Bruce could have made another decision; he _could_ have come to work for Stark Industries. Looking back, Tony thinks he understands a little better why Bruce had refused. He’d thought he was making the world a better place, rather than making it worse.

 

He takes the folder abruptly. “I’ll do it. I think I can guarantee that Ross will want nothing to do with you or SHIELD after I get done with him.”

 

Coulson raises his eyebrows. “You seem enthusiastic about the prospect. Is this about that run in you had with him in Africa?”

 

 _Among other things_ , Tony doesn’t say. “He’s a bully,” he says dismissively. “I’m not a fan of bullies.”

 

He gives Coulson a half-salute with the file. “He’ll be out of your hair in a couple of days.”

 

Tony taps the folder against his leg as he jogs back down the stairs to his workshop, and once he’s inside, he tosses it among the engine parts and other assorted detritus, sets his coffee cup down and just breathes.

 

He wants to throw things, the old grief rising up and pressing in on him, and then he shoves it aside.

 

“Jarvis, do me a favor and send Elaine flowers,” Tony says. “The message should read I’m thinking of her.”

 

He never remembers her birthday—although he _does_ remember Mother’s Day every year in Bruce’s memory. But when Tony thinks about Bruce, when he’s missing him terribly, he’ll send Elaine or Jen flowers, or give them a call.

 

Bruce would probably approve.

 

“Of course, sir. Would you like me to file a flight plan to General Ross’ current location?”

 

“I’ll leave tomorrow morning,” Tony says.

 

He’s about to ask Jarvis to pull everything on Ross or related to Ross again, to start going through the information for the hundredth time, but Pepper calls out, “Tony? Did I just see Agent Coulson leaving?”

 

“SHIELD wants me to run an errand for them tomorrow,” Tony says. “It shouldn’t take much time.”

 

She’s frowning when he looks at her. “Are you okay?”

 

Tony forces a smile, crossing the distance between them to kiss her. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a thing with General Ross. I hate that guy.”

 

“I remember you saying as much,” she replies, amused now. “Do you have a little time for me?”

 

“I always have time for you,” Tony says, lying grandly, grateful when she doesn’t call him on it.

 

He’s grateful that Pepper has shown up when she did, because he could use the distraction.

 

Tomorrow, he’ll put the screws to Ross, and Tony is going to enjoy making him squirm, even if SHIELD and Ross never know that he has an ulterior motive.


	7. Kolkata, India/Manhattan, New York/Somewhere Over the Atlantic Ocean, May 2012

Bruce is admittedly a sucker for kids, which he’s pretty sure SHIELD knows, considering how they’d lured him to the edge of the city. He would have been a little more cautious if an adult had asked for his help, but a little girl begging for help? That short circuited his hard-won caution and got him moving.

 

Right where SHIELD wants him.

 

He’s not happy about being manipulated like that, and he doesn’t like being lied to. Bruce can sense Romanoff’s uneasiness from the beginning, and her fear, and he uses it to his advantage, forcing her to show her hand when she pulls the gun she’d hidden and orders the SHIELD agents surrounding the shack to stand down.

 

“Just you and me,” Bruce says quietly, watching her closely. She’s still afraid, and maybe a little surprised that he’d turned the tables on her. “If this really is a potential global catastrophe, I can’t be the only person you’re calling in.”

 

Natasha’s expression is still wary. “No, you’re not.”

 

Honesty, at last, Bruce thinks. “Who else?” he asks. He could guess, but he wants her to tell him.

 

“Steve Rogers and Tony Stark,” she admits.

 

“ _The_ Steve Rogers,” Bruce asks, letting a little of his incredulity show. “He’s dead.”

 

“They found his body in the ice a few months ago and thawed him out,” Natasha replies, and she seems to be relaxing a bit. “The serum—”

 

She stops, and Bruce smiles ruefully. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised,” he says.

 

He doesn’t ask about Tony because he doesn’t dare give SHIELD any more ammunition than they already have, and he has no idea whether SHIELD knows about their previous relationship. Besides, Tony’s life is something of an open book; Bruce has been following the press on him, devouring all the news he can get his hands on.

 

The truth is, knowing Tony will be there nearly makes Bruce refuse, even though he wants to see Tony with a desperate longing he’s grown used to ignoring. But it’s been six years since Bruce has talked to him, and Bruce knows that Tony probably thinks he’s dead.

 

He’s _allowed_ Tony to believe he was dead.

 

But at the same time, knowing Tony will be there is about the only reason Bruce _does_ agree to go. First, because no matter how pissed off Tony is at Bruce, he’s certain that Tony won’t let Fury keep Bruce prisoner for long. And second, SHIELD has found him—has apparently never lost him—so Bruce obviously can’t hide forever.

 

He doesn’t _want_ to hide forever, not really. He wants to see Tony again; he wants to see his family.

 

Bruce has spent the last couple of years trying to make up for the destruction he’s caused in some small way, but he’s never going to make amends if he doesn’t face the damage he’d done when he disappeared.

 

Maybe he’ll have to go on the run again after this latest crisis, but if SHIELD knows where he is anyway, there’s no reason to keep up the pretense of his death.

 

“I’ll go,” Bruce finally says.

 

Natasha doesn’t look all that happy about his capitulation, maybe because she’s going to have to spend more time with him. “Thank you, Dr. Banner.”

 

Bruce nods. “When do we leave?”

 

“Is there anything you need to pick up?”

 

Bruce shrugs. “I try to carry everything with me.”

 

Natasha speaks into the same communicator she’d used earlier. “Dr. Banner is with me. Bring the car around.”

 

“How is this going to work?” Bruce asks as he follows her out of the shack and to a waiting Jeep. “I help you track this object, and then I can leave?”

 

“That’s how it works,” Natasha replies, her voice even.

 

He thinks she might be glad to see the back of him when this is over, which makes sense. That’s the trouble with the Other Guy—people want to control him, to use him, but that’s not a possibility.

 

Bruce should know. It’s taken him years to find a fragile control, and he’s barely got a handle on it now. Being around a bunch of SHIELD agents is going to put him on edge, being around _Tony_ again is going to test his control, and he just has to hope it’s worth it.

 

They make the trip to the airport in silence, and Bruce doesn’t try to make conversation. He feels a little guilty for scaring her, even though he doesn’t regret it, since he knows that was the only way to get the truth out of her.

 

The plane is a step up from a military transport, and Bruce tips his head back and tries to nap. He’s too keyed up to do more than close his eyes and breathe deeply, trying to forget that he’s in a pressurized metal canister 30,000 feet above the ground.

 

He can’t sleep, but he does fall into a meditative state, although he can’t clear his mind. Instead, he goes back to a pleasant memory, one that’s well worn with time and much revisiting.

 

_He’s sixteen again, and visiting Tony in Malibu at the beginning of his summer break, before he starts at Culver. The sun is hot on the back of his neck above his rash guard, and he’s watching Tony paddle out on his board._

_“Bruce! Get your ass in gear!” Tony yells, and Bruce realizes that he’d been staring at Tony._

_Bruce grabs his board and begins paddling out, and Tony’s waiting for him, sitting astride his board, swaying with the motion of the waves. “Watch how it’s done, Brucie,” he says. “Next wave is mine.”_

_The next wave is a good one, and Tony hops up on his board to catch it. Bruce watches admiringly as Tony rides the wave, crouching low._

_They’ve been surfing together four times now, and Bruce is just beginning to get the hang of it. He’s never going to be good, but he likes it. He likes being with Tony, and he likes watching Tony catch a wave. He likes the way Tony looks at him when he manages not to wipe out—and even when he does._

_Bruce catches the next wave, and he rides it into the shore, thrilled at the rush and the victory._

_“You’ve been holding out on me!” Tony shouts when Bruce comes back to shore. “That was fucking awesome!”_

_And Tony throws his arms around Bruce, wrestling him down onto the sand._

 

Bruce tries not to think about Europe too often, because it’s too hard to remember what they’d had, and what he’d lost. But those times they’d been together before Europe are without shadow.

 

Bruce pulls those memories out a lot.

 

He’s pulled out of his reverie when the plane touches down, and Natasha says, “I think Captain Rogers should be arriving shortly. I’ll meet him, and then show you both inside.”

 

Bruce doesn’t know Natasha well, but at least he does know her. He doesn’t trust any of the other SHIELD agents, though.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Bruce agrees, because he can’t do anything else.

 

“I’ll have someone take care of your bag,” Natasha promises.

 

Bruce nods. “Thanks.”

 

He’s left on the deck, with people in uniform everywhere, and no sign of Tony, which just ratchets up his anxiety that much further. Flight crews in jumpsuits and headsets pass him, and he stumbles out of the way, trying to look inconspicuous, although that’s hard to do when he’s not wearing a uniform.

 

“Dr. Banner!”

 

Bruce hadn’t given much thought to meeting Steve Rogers because he’d been too focused on seeing Tony again, but now he’s faced with the reality of what the serum _could_ do if it worked correctly, or if Bruce had started with the right materials.

 

Seeing Rogers in person, Bruce can see how he falls short.

 

Bruce has no idea what to call the man, so he says, “Oh, yeah, hi. They told me you’d be coming.”

 

Rogers wears a pleasant smile as he shakes Bruce’s hand. “Word is you can find the cube.”

 

Bruce is getting a little tired of people pretending the Other Guy isn’t there, or that they don’t care. “Is that the only word?”

 

“Only one I care about,” Steve says in a way that tells Bruce he means it. Or thinks he does—Rogers hasn’t seen the Other Guy yet.

 

Bruce can’t help but feel resentful. Not only had the serum worked on Steve, not only is he tall and gorgeous, but he’s _nice_. Bruce can’t even hate the guy.

 

He just has to remember that Rogers has spent the last seventy years on ice, and he has to find the future a little disorienting. And birthdate notwithstanding, he’s still pretty damn young.

 

And he’s a soldier, who’s comfortable surrounded by SHIELD agents. They really couldn’t be more different if they tried.

 

Bruce is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, especially once they get on the bridge, and there are guards on the door. But Fury assures him that he can disappear again once this is all over, and they set him up in a really nice lab with the kind of cutting edge equipment he hasn’t seen in years.

 

He doesn’t ask when Tony will arrive. Knowing Tony, he’ll make an entrance, and Bruce has work to do. He’d best get to it.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony can do nothing but stare at the video of the Hulk—and Bruce—and he has to force himself to look at the other files.

 

He manages to keep up pretenses with Pepper, bantering lightheartedly and making plans for the future, at least until she leaves, and then he delves into the files, starting with the tesseract.

 

He saves Bruce for last, pulling up his picture and the video of the green creature Bruce apparently turns into, the pieces clicking into place.

 

He’d done that errand for Coulson, thinking that whatever they’d given Blonsky had killed Bruce, but apparently it had transformed him. Or allowed him to transform.

 

Tony enlarges Bruce’s photo, cataloging the changes he sees. Bruce has more gray in his hair, and he looks more weathered, but he still looks good.

 

As Tony reads through the file, a clear picture begins to emerge. By all rights, Bruce _should_ be dead, Tony had been right about that. Exposure to that much radiation would have killed anybody else, but in Bruce it had triggered a transformation. He’d put Betty Ross in the hospital, and had caused massive property damage and injuries during pretty much every subsequent transformation.

 

Up until recently, when SHIELD managed to get the Army off Bruce’s trail, he’d been running almost constantly. And Bruce, for whatever reason, hadn’t contacted Tony.

 

Tony runs a hand through his hair, thinking about the last words they’d spoken to each other. He’s angry, but also relieved, and more than a little depressed.

 

Did Bruce not think that Tony would protect him? Had he thought Tony would turn him over to the Army? Or was it just Bruce’s attempt to protect Tony from himself?

 

Whatever Bruce’s reasons for staying away, and for hiding out all these years, Tony will find out soon enough.

 

SHIELD is pulling Bruce in to help find the tesseract, and Tony has a perfectly legitimate reason to be in the same room as Bruce for the first time in more than twenty years.

 

Still, it’s probably a good idea not to let on to how well they know each other. SHIELD is still unaware of his relationship with Bruce, and the Army certainly doesn’t know about their connection. If Bruce needs a place to run in the future, Tony will make sure Bruce comes to him, rather than going to ground.

 

Tony has a better chance of helping him if they keep their secret.

 

But he has every intention of finding a quiet corner to read Bruce the riot act as soon as possible.

 

As much as he’d like to head straight for the helicarrier, he has other things to do first, like become an expert on thermonuclear astrophysics so he has some chance of keeping up with Bruce. And he already has some ideas on how to find Loki.

 

Tony has something to prove to SHIELD, and he’s going to demonstrate that they can’t do without him.

 

In retrospect, fighting with Thor was maybe not the best idea, but he’s a little on edge from the prospect of seeing Bruce again. He feels wired and anxious, and when he steps onto the bridge, he’s careful not to do more than briefly glance at Bruce.

 

He probably oversells it, but he’s Tony Stark, and people expect him to be loud and obnoxious. No one is paying attention to the bug he places on the computer, and Tony can distract everyone—particularly the room full of SHIELD agents—with the science behind the cube.

 

Bruce is pacing in the back of the room, fidgeting with the glasses in his hand, his shoulders hunched, like he’s preparing for a blow. He won’t really look at Tony.

 

“Am I the only one who did the reading?” Tony asks, trying to draw Bruce out.

 

They’ve always spoken the same language, after all.

 

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” Rogers asks.

 

Still pacing, Bruce says, “He’d have to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

 

And _now_ Tony can address Bruce head on. “ _Unless_ Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.”

 

Tony can see Bruce’s body language change completely, his shoulders going down and back, a little bit of that old arrogance coming back into his voice. Bruce is back on his own territory—and he and Bruce had first connected over a shared love of science.

 

“Well, if he could do that, he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony grins and holds out a hand. “Finally, someone who speaks English.”

 

“Is that what just happened?” Rogers mutters.

 

Bruce’s hand is rougher than Tony remembers, and his grip is firm, even though his palm is a little sweaty. Tony realizes that Bruce is more nervous than he appears, and he’s eyeing Tony with trepidation, like he’s not sure where Tony’s going with this.

 

“It’s good to meet you, Dr. Banner,” Tony says, knowing Bruce will pick up the cue. “Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled, and I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

 

Tony had proofed Bruce’s equations on that paper years ago, and he wants to get it right out in the open that he knows about the Hulk and he _doesn’t care_.

 

Bruce immediately looks away, unable to meet Tony’s eyes. “Thanks.”

 

“Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube,” Fury says. “I was hoping you might join him.”

 

Tony glances at Bruce, who quirks an eyebrow. Tony can still read him like a book, and it’s clear that Bruce doesn’t trust that Fury won’t try to keep him.

 

Rogers says something about Loki’s scepter working like a Hydra weapon, and Fury is somewhat dismissive of the idea.

 

Tony just wants to get off the bridge and get Bruce alone, somewhere away from prying eyes. Rogers’ pleasure at actually getting a pop culture reference is creating another delay, and Tony rolls his eyes.

 

“Shall we play, doctor?” Tony asks, wanting to move things along, keeping things formal to maintain a little distance.

 

Bruce sweeps a hand toward the door. “This way, sir.”

 

Tony has planned ahead. He’d looked at the blueprints, and he’d mapped out a room where they won’t be observed.

 

Okay, so it’s a janitorial closet—which they have even on the helicarrier—and that’s a little too on the nose, but it will get the job done.

 

Tony makes sure they’re alone in the hallway, and then he grabs Bruce’s arm and manhandles him into the closet. Once they’re alone, Tony drops all pretenses. “You _fucking asshole_ ,” he snarls. “I thought you were dead!”

 

Bruce’s shoulders hunch. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Not good enough,” Tony snaps. “You couldn’t have sent a postcard? Do you know what you did to me? To Elaine and Jen? Because I know they still think you’re dead.”

 

Bruce’s jaw works. “It was safer.”

 

“I would have helped you,” Tony says. “You and me, Bruce. Always.”

 

Bruce finally meets his eyes. “We were kids when we made that promise.”

 

“So what?” Tony demands, poking him in the chest. “You think I didn’t mean it?”

 

“I didn’t want you hurt!” Bruce bursts out. “I put Betty in the hospital. That was the _first_ thing I did. Do you have any idea what it would do to me if I did the same to you? If you didn’t make it?”

 

Tony sighs, the anger draining right out of him, and he hauls Bruce into a hug. “You know, you can be a real idiot for such a smart guy.”

 

Bruce hangs on tightly. “I’m sorry. After what happened, what I said, and—”

 

“Shut up,” Tony replies. “Same rules apply. I don’t trust Fury, and I know you don’t either. If you _have_ to run again, I want to leave this route open.”

 

“I figured that’s what you were going for.” Bruce’s voice is muffled against Tony’s jacket. “Either that, or you were so pissed off that you were never going to speak to me again.”

 

“Impossible, since I just got you back,” Tony says, pulling back to look Bruce in the eye. “Promise me, no more disappearing, not on me.”

 

Bruce hesitates. “Tony…”

 

“ _Promise me_ ,” Tony insists. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

 

Bruce sighs. “I promise.” And then he rests his forehead against Tony’s shoulder. “You’re right about not trusting Fury. That room he put Loki in? He built that for the Other Guy.”

 

Tony grimaces at the thought of Bruce in a cage, and he squeezes the back of Bruce’s neck. “If he tries anything at all, I’ll break you out, okay?”

 

“Thanks,” Bruce murmurs. “We’d better get to the lab before someone misses us.”

 

Tony takes a deep breath and steps back. “You’re right. You good?”

 

Bruce’s smile is a little more genuine this time around. “Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

 

“Good. Let’s get to work,” Tony says, already plotting ways to keep Bruce around.

 

~~~~~

 

For a minute there, when Tony stepped onto the bridge, Bruce had been certain that Tony was going to completely ignore him, and that he might be pissed off enough never to forgive him.

 

And then Tony lobbed that softball, and shook his hand, and Bruce knew that Tony was just keeping up the pretense that they were meeting for the first time.

 

Just like that, they’re on the same wavelength again, in tune like they hadn’t been in _years_ , and Bruce thinks that he might still get to have this—he might, after everything, have Tony’s friendship.

 

Bruce is just grateful to have that much, because he still feels as though all the air has gone out of the room when Tony enters. And it’s not just sexual attraction, although that’s present, because it’s _always_ been there, but Tony has always spoken Bruce’s language. Bruce had been afraid he’d fucked that up along with everything else in his life.

 

It’s a relief when Tony shoves him into a closet to yell at him; it’s a surprise when Tony lets out a breath and pulls Bruce in for a hug.

 

No one has touched Bruce like that, in kindness, for years. He has to work to get the words out around the lump in his throat.

 

“Look, get started without me,” Tony says when they get to the lab. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable, okay?”

 

Bruce nods. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Tony claps him on the shoulder. “Back in a few.”

 

Bruce had forgotten how tactile Tony is. “I’ll just get started then.”

 

Loki’s scepter is sitting on a table in the middle of the lab, and Bruce starts readying his equipment. He’s enjoying it more now that Tony is here, and they’ve gotten past their reunion. For the first time in years, Bruce has someone in his corner.

 

If Fury tries to put him in a cage, there’s someone to get him out.

 

Tony wanders into the lab with a SHIELD agent who’s loaded down with equipment. “Oh, good. Let’s get to the bottom of this staff, shall we?”

 

Bruce falls into a rhythm with Tony immediately, the kind of rhythm they’d had when they were teenagers at summer camp.

 

“You know, you should come by Stark Tower sometime,” Tony says. “Top ten floors, all R&D, you’d love it. It’s Candyland.”

 

Bruce wants to—oh, how he wants to, especially since every objection he had in the past is gone. Stark Industries doesn’t make weapons now, and Bruce has given up any claim he had to moral superiority.

 

That doesn’t make it a good idea.

 

“Thanks, but the last time I was in New York, I kind of broke—Harlem,” Bruce replies.

 

He knows there are security cameras in the lab, and it’s safer to assume they’re being watched, so at least part of this exchange is for an audience.

 

Bruce knows what Tony is really asking—for Bruce to stay—and Bruce feels the need to remind him of why it’s a bad idea all around.

 

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment,” Tony replies, crossing behind him. “No tension, no surprises.”

 

Bruce probably should have been expecting it, but people who know what he is tend to avoid doing things like poking him in the side with an electric probe.

 

Come to think of it, Bruce probably deserves it—but more than that, it feels good to have someone around who _doesn’t_ walk on eggshells around Bruce.

 

Still, it hurts, but he gets Tony’s point when he asks, “You really have a lid on it, don’t you?”

 

Because _that_ is Tony’s point. Bruce doesn’t have to stay away to protect Tony if he has the Other Guy under control, and Bruce wouldn’t put it past Tony to track him down now and just keep poking at him, either literally or metaphorically.

 

Rogers isn’t impressed by Tony’s cavalier attitude, though, and he snaps at Tony as he enters the lab—and in such a way as to make it very clear that whatever Rogers had said earlier, he’s worried about the Other Guy making an appearance.

 

Bruce could have told Rogers that his attitude would just make Tony push back that much harder. Like the rest of the world, Rogers looks at Tony and sees a sarcastic asshole, someone who will poke a sleeping bear just because he can, just to see what will happen.

 

But thirty minutes ago, Tony had given Bruce his first hug in years. Thirty years ago, Tony had held him in the aftermath of a nightmare.

 

Rogers doesn’t _know_ Tony—and Bruce suspects that Tony would like to keep it that way.

 

He’s well aware of Tony’s complicated relationship with Captain America, even if Rogers isn’t.

 

Tony’s actually pretty nice—at least for him—as he tries to introduce the concept that Fury and SHIELD might not have been entirely honest. Rogers is having none of it, though, and when he and Tony start swiping at each other again, looking to hit below the belt, Bruce steps in, using Rogers’ first name deliberately.

 

“Steve, tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?” Bruce prompts.

 

Rogers’ jaw tightens. “Just find the cube,” he orders as he stalks out.

 

“ _That’s_ the guy my dad never shut up about?” Tony asks. “Maybe they should have left him on ice.”

 

“He’s not wrong about Loki,” Bruce says diplomatically. “The guy does have the jump on us.”

 

Tony’s dismissive, but Bruce can’t help but feel that there’s more at work here, and more to Loki’s plan than just the tesseract, even if Tony doesn’t think so.

 

“And maybe you’ll suit up with the rest of us,” Tony says.

 

Bruce decides to disabuse Tony of that notion right quick. “I don’t get a suit of armor,” he objects. “I’m exposed, like a nerve. It’s a nightmare.”

 

“You know, I’ve had a cluster of shrapnel trying every second to crawl into my heart,” Tony replies and taps the arc reactor. “This stops it. This little circle of light. It’s part of me. It’s not just armor. It’s a terrible privilege.”

 

Bruce realizes that this feels like the beginning of an argument, or maybe a continuation of their discussion earlier—Tony’s invitation to come to Stark Tower, and Bruce objecting. Just like Tony asking why Bruce hadn’t contacted him, and Bruce reminding him that he’s a danger to everyone around him.

 

He also feels like Tony’s sharing a truth, that he _is_ Iron Man, and not just a suit of armor.

 

“It’s different,” Bruce reminds him, because he feels as though it needs to be said. “You can control it.”

 

“Because I learned how,” Tony insists.

 

Bruce shakes his head and turns back to the data. “It’s still different.”

 

Tony clears the screen with a gesture. “Hey, I read all about your ‘accident,’” he says, and Bruce can hear the scare quotes around those words. “That much gamma radiation should have killed you.”

 

There’s a part of Bruce that wants to say that it _had_ killed him, that he’s no longer the person he was six years ago. He feels a crushing bitterness. “Are you saying that the Hulk,” he catches himself, laughs. “That the _Other Guy_ saved me for something? That’s nice. That’s a nice sentiment. Saved me for what?”

 

Tony gives him a meaningful look. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

 

“You might not enjoy that,” Bruce warns.

 

“And you just might,” Tony counters.

 

Bruce goes back to the data, Tony’s words echoing in his mind. He wishes he could believe Tony, that maybe he’d survived for some reason, that the last six years—the pain and devastation he’d caused—hadn’t been for nothing.

 

He can’t say he’s sorry to have lived long enough to see Tony again, though, even if that’s a selfish thought.

 

“It’s easy for you,” Bruce finally says. “You can’t know what it’s like.”

 

“So, tell me,” Tony invites. “Your file says it’s stress, or maybe anger.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “I used to think it was my heart rate, but that’s just a symptom. Most of the time, I have a handle on it.”

 

“When don’t you have a handle on it?” Tony asks. “Because you could have lost it when I hit you with the prod.”

 

“I knew I wasn’t in danger with you,” Bruce replies, meeting Tony’s eyes through the data board. “I’m safe with you.”

 

He doesn’t say that he’s always been safe with Tony, but he thinks Tony gets the message.

 

“Then there’s no reason not to stick around when all this is over,” Tony replies, using Bruce’s admission to his advantage, which Bruce should have expected.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “Ask me again after you meet the Other Guy. If you still want me around, we can talk.”

 

“You’ve got it,” Tony replies readily. “Trust me, Banner. The offer is going to stay open for as long as it takes.”

 

“Talk to me later,” Bruce insists again. “Then we’ll see.”

 

He’s not sure what he wants to happen, honestly. He’s not sure he could take Tony’s rejection, but at the same time, he thinks it might be better if he didn’t stick around afterward.

 

No matter how much he wants to.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony is a little disappointed when Bruce turns him down, or at least puts his acceptance on hold, but he knows he’ll wear Bruce down eventually, especially after the most recent reminder of how good things are when he’s with Tony.

 

Because things _are_ good—it’s just like old times, with them working through the night, bouncing ideas and data back and forth, checking on Jarvis’ progress on occasion.

 

Bruce asks about Jarvis, and Tony realizes that they haven’t met, so he rambles on about his AI for a while, although he doesn’t give away all his secrets. There are things he doesn’t want to risk SHIELD finding out, and it’s good to leave a little mystery, just to give Bruce another reason to stick around.

 

The sun is coming up when they start to narrow in on the cube’s location, and Jarvis is close to unlocking all of SHIELD’s secret files. Tony is tired, but he and Bruce have been mainlining coffee, and he’s still feeling buzzed just from Bruce’s presence.

 

So, of course, Fury has to go and ruin everything.

 

“What are you doing, Mr. Stark?” Fury demands.

 

“Uh, kind of wondering the same thing about you,” Tony counters, knowing he just has to buy a few minutes and they can confront Fury with the evidence of what they’ve found in SHIELD’s files.

 

“You’re supposed to be locating the tesseract,” Fury replies.

 

Bruce has clearly relaxed a bit after the hours spent in Tony’s company, and doing science, because he says with perfect confidence, “We are. The model’s locked, and we’re sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we’ll have the location within half a mile.”

 

Tony smirks. “And you’ll get your cube back, no muss, no fuss.” The files Jarvis has unlocked populate his monitor. “What _is_ Phase 2?”

 

He’s startled when Rogers tosses some kind of weapon on the lab table. “Phase 2 is SHIELD using the cube to make weapons.” He glances at Tony. “Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow.”

 

“Rogers, we gathered everything related to the tesseract. This does not mean that we’re—” Fury speaks, and Tony has no trouble spotting a lie.

 

He turns the monitor to face Fury. “I’m sorry, Nick. What were you lying?”

 

Rogers says, “I was wrong, Director. The world hasn’t changed a bit.”

 

But Tony’s attention is elsewhere, because he can feel Bruce’s anger like a living thing. Tony has borne the brunt of Bruce’s anger before, but he’s beginning to understand that it’s different now.

 

And when Thor and Natasha enter the room, Tony can feel the uptick in tension.

 

“Did you know about this?” Bruce demands.

 

Tony suddenly _gets_ it—SHIELD is building weapons, and Bruce has always drawn a hard line in the sand at that. The Army had told Bruce he’d be protecting soldiers with his project, which is the only reason Bruce had agreed.

 

Bruce has less patience than most for being lied to, especially about something like _this_.

 

“You want to think about removing yourself from this environment, doctor?” Natasha asks.

 

“I was in Kolkata,” Bruce says, his tone sharp and sarcastic. “I was pretty well removed.”

 

“Loki’s manipulating you,” Natasha counters.

 

That’s the wrong thing to say. If Bruce is demanding the truth, he’s not going to be satisfied until he gets it.

 

“And you’ve been doing what exactly?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony starts moving towards Bruce, both so he can intervene if necessary, and because he wants to make his allegiances clear.

 

“You didn’t come here because I batted my eyelashes,” Natasha says, rising to the bait.

 

“Yes, and I’m not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy. I’d like to know why SHIELD is using the tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.” Bruce is definitely getting worked up, and while Tony wouldn’t mind seeing Bruce’s greener half, he’s also pretty sure that it would be a really bad idea to set the Hulk loose on the helicarrier.

 

Fury is the one to answer the question, pointing at Thor. “Because of him.”

 

Thor frowns. “Me?”

 

So far, Tony hasn’t been real impressed with Thor’s intelligence, and he hasn’t seen anything to suggest otherwise. He doesn’t pay a lot of attention to Fury and Thor’s exchange—it’s all, “Blah, blah, you made us build weapons, blah, blah threat”—which is basically the same argument for every arms race in the history of the world.

 

Tony should know; he’d participated in that argument more times than he can count.

 

What Tony is interested in is _Bruce_ , who is definitely not impressed with Fury’s explanation or excuse. He seems to be hanging onto his temper by his fingernails, so Tony figures he should probably say something.

 

“Nuclear deterrent, because that always calms everything right down.”

 

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?”

 

Then Tony is distracted by the ensuing argument when Rogers snaps, and he’s drawn in despite himself. He feels amped up, and angry, ready to punch someone.

 

“You speak of control, yet you court chaos,” Thor rumbles.

 

Bruce’s voice—or rather, the tension in Bruce’s voice—snaps Tony to attention. “It’s his M.O., isn’t it? I mean, what are we, a team? No, we’re a chemical mixture that _makes_ chaos. We’re—we’re a time bomb.”

 

Fury goes very still. “You need to step away, doctor.”

 

“He’s right, though,” Tony inserts, compelled to defend Bruce. “You brought us in, and yet you didn’t give us all the information we need.”

 

“Maybe Dr. Banner should take a break,” Rogers suggests.

 

Tony is beginning to feel hemmed in, and he knows what that probably means for Bruce. “I think you should all back off. We were doing just fine in here before you all showed up to pick a fight.”

 

“I was the one to pick a fight?” Rogers challenges. “You’re just a big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

 

Tony glares. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

 

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. Yeah, I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

 

Rogers’ words cut deep because they have the ring of truth, echoing questions that Tony has entertained himself in the dead of night.

 

“ _Stop_ ,” Bruce snarls. Tony turns to face Bruce, who does not look well. If Tony’s not mistaken, there’s a green cast to his skin. “You don’t know him. You don’t get to insult him.”

 

The room goes very silent, and Fury says, “Agent Romanoff, why don’t you escort Dr. Banner back to his—”

 

“Where?” Bruce snaps. “You rented my room.”

 

Tony winces, knowing he and Bruce are handing Fury a lot of ammunition that can be used against them. There’s no way that Fury and Romanoff won’t figure out that he and Bruce are a little more than instant BFFs.

 

Fury holds up his hands in a pacifying gesture that Tony knows is going to do absolutely fuck-all. “The cell was just in case—”

 

“In case you needed to kill me, but you can’t! I know! I tried!” Bruce shouts. Tony stiffens, hearing the raw pain in Bruce’s voice, and he is definitely _not_ looking at Tony. “I got low. I didn’t see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the Other Guy spit it out! So, I moved on. I focused on helping other people. I was _good_ , until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk!”

 

He’s staring at Romanoff when he says it, and she looks scared, but Tony decides he has a more immediate problem, now that his brain is actually working again.

 

He has no desire to see Bruce shot, and he has caught on to the fact that Romanoff and Fury have loosened their weapons in their holsters. Given what Bruce had just said, Tony’s pretty sure that’s just going to piss the Hulk off even more.

 

“Bruce,” Tony says, keeping his voice low, and moving slowly. “Hey. We’re okay here, right?”

 

Bruce stares at him, a little wild-eyed.

 

“Stark!” Fury calls sharply.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Tony snaps. “You’ve done enough damage. Bruce, you need to put the scepter down. It’s fucking with your head.”

 

Bruce glances down, looking sick, and he drops it on the table like he’s been burned just as the computer beeps. He won’t look at Tony as he approaches the computer. “Sorry, kids. You won’t get to see my little party trick after all.”

 

“Have you located the tesseract?” Thor asks.

 

Tony is torn between staying and making sure Bruce is okay and getting the hell out of Dodge. If he’s not mistaken, at least some of Bruce’s anger had come from Rogers taking potshots at Tony.

 

In the end, though, the tesseract is more important. “I can get there faster.”

 

“We should all go,” Rogers protests.

 

“The tesseract belongs on Asgard. No human is a match for it,” Thor protests.

 

Tony thinks that maybe they should argue about the end destination of the cube _after_ they get it back, and he heads for the door.

 

Rogers gets in his way. “You’re not going alone!”

 

Tony has never been inclined to take orders at the best of times, and this is definitely not the best of times. “You gonna stop me?”

 

“Put on the suit, let’s find out,” Rogers replies, getting right up into Tony’s face.

 

“I’m not afraid to hit an old man,” Tony snaps.

 

“Put on the suit!”

 

“Tony!” Bruce shouts, and that’s all the warning Tony has.

 

He and Rogers are thrown across the room, and Rogers helps him up and out of the decimated lab. “Put on the suit!”

 

This time, Tony doesn’t argue. “Yeah, sure.”

 

He wants to check on Bruce, to figure out what happened to him, but he can feel the lurch of the helicarrier deck under his feet, and he knows that if they don’t stop the attack, they’re going to have a lot more dead bodies on their hands.

 

And if Bruce can survive a bullet to the head, chances are he doesn’t have much to fear. Tony will have to worry about him later.

 

It’s a good thing he can compartmentalize.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce wakes up in rubble, naked, and he really wishes this were a new thing. He has no idea how much time has passed, or what he’d done in the meantime, but he has the sense that it had been bad.

 

He can just barely remember Natasha promising him that she would get him out of this, and he would walk away. She’d promised on her life.

 

Bruce can’t remember if he’d hurt her. He hopes he hadn’t. She hadn’t deserved it. She hadn’t deserved to be scared like that, either. In retrospect, he’d played right into Loki’s hands, and maybe he would have been able to keep it under control if a bomb hadn’t gone off under his feet.

 

He glances up at the large hole in the ceiling, and looks around him, wondering how he’s going to find clothing and shoes—and where he might go next. He spots a security guard standing on the edge of the pile of rubble.

 

“You fell out of the sky,” he observes. He’s a thin, weathered man in a dark blue uniform.

 

“Did I hurt anybody?” Bruce asks.

 

He shrugs. “There’s nobody around here to get hurt. You did scare the hell out of some pigeons, though.”

 

Bruce rubs his forehead. “Lucky,” he mutters.

 

“Or just good aim,” the guard counters. “You were awake when you fell.”

 

“You saw?”

 

“The whole thing, right through the ceiling.” He sounds almost cheerful about it. “Big and green and buck ass nude. Here…” He throws Bruce a pile of clothing. “I didn’t think those would fit you until you shrunk down to a regular size fella.”

 

Bruce has been surprised by human kindness in the past, but this guy’s ready acceptance shocks him. “Thank you,” he manages.

 

The man waits until Bruce at least has his pants on before he asks, “Are you an alien?”

 

“What?”

 

“From outer space, an alien,” he adds.

 

Bruce can’t blame him for thinking that, but he says, “No.”

 

“Well, then, son, you’ve got a condition,” the man says.

 

Bruce snorts and pulls on the rest of his clothes, thankful that the fit is decent enough to get by. He’s thinking about where he needs to go from here.

 

“So, which is it?” the security guard asks as Bruce buttons his shirt.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Are you a big guy that’s sometimes little, or are you a little guy that sometimes blows up large?”

 

“You know, I’m not even sure,” Bruce admits.

 

The security guard smiles. “You got somewhere to be?”

 

Bruce remembers the data that had popped up. “Yeah, Stark Tower. Or—no.”

 

Tony will be there, he thinks. Facing whatever Loki decides to throw at him, and Bruce can’t let him down again. “Yeah,” Bruce says. “I have to get to Stark Tower.”

 

“Well, I’d expect some confusion from someone whose body is all over the place,” he says, leading the way out of the warehouse. “You can borrow my ride.”

 

Bruce stares at the motorcycle. “Are you sure?”

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says philosophically. “Good luck.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Bruce says. “For everything.”

 

The motorcycle turns out to be the perfect mode of transport, and Bruce goes as fast as he’s able. He can see something in the sky above Stark Tower, but he’s far enough away that he can’t make out details.

 

Bruce dodges through traffic, and after about thirty minutes, the roads clear out completely, mostly because it looks like everybody is trying to get _out_ of the city. Some people have already abandoned their cars and started walking.

 

He navigates the bike through stopped cars, and then, once he gets into the city, through burning rubble. Bruce can see the hole that the tesseract has punched in the sky above Stark Tower, and the alien ships coming through. He hears explosions and screams, and he can’t help but think that this is the first time he’s been on this side of a disaster.

 

He’s usually green by now.

 

Bruce goes with his gut, heading for Stark Tower, which looks to be the epicenter of destruction, but he’s still a little surprised when he rides up and finds the entire team present, other than Tony, including Agent Barton, whose picture he’d seen.

 

He’s none too sure of his welcome, and he parks the bike and strides up to them. “So, this all looks horrible.”

 

Natasha quirks an eyebrow. “I’ve seen worse.”

 

“Sorry,” Bruce says sincerely.

 

She almost smiles. “No, it’s okay. We could use a little worse.”

 

“Stark, we got him,” Rogers says. “Just like you said.”

 

Bruce feels a warm glow in his chest, feeling Tony’s belief in him. He’s not on coms, so he can’t hear Tony’s reply, but Natasha says, “I don’t see how that’s a party.”

 

He turns and sees one of the large alien ships, like some kind of fucked up centipede, approaching rapidly.

 

“Dr. Banner, now might be a good time to get angry,” Rogers says.

 

Bruce glances over his shoulder, feeling a strange sense of acceptance. “That’s my secret, Cap. I’m always angry.”

 

And then he gives in to the anger, welcoming the transformation instead of fighting it for the first time ever, and it’s different.

 

He still feels raw, still feels like a passenger in his own mind, but it’s easier to accept. The Other Guy follows Cap’s orders and smashes the alien threat, and then, in the end, he catches Iron Man as he tumbles through the rift in the sky.

 

And when Bruce wakes up this time, he’s on a couch, the cushions a little hard and scratchy, and there’s something covering him.

 

He blinks slowly, trying to remember why he’s here, and Tony crouches in front of him. “Hey, there you are.”

 

Bruce rubs his eyes. “How long have I been out? What happened?”

 

“Thor, Rogers, Barton, and Romanoff are delivering Loki to SHIELD. I thought I’d stay with you to make sure you got something to wear,” Tony replies. He’s out of his armor, and wearing the same casual clothing he’d changed into on the helicarrier.

 

Bruce clutches the fabric covering him. “And this?”

 

“Thor’s cape,” Tony replies. “He said he could do without it, and he was most impressed with your greener half. You made quite the impression with Loki.”

 

Bruce winces. “I didn’t kill anybody, did I?”

 

“Left a dent in my floor, which I will be asking you to make up for by working for me for ungodly sums of money,” Tony says cheerfully. “But the Hulk limited the destruction to the Chitauri and Loki. Maybe a few buildings, but it was all in a good cause, and no one is going to be able to tell what was the Hulk and what was the alien army.”

 

Bruce just closes his eyes, because he’s used to the idea of having done serious property damage, but it still makes him a little sick.

 

“Hey, blame Loki,” Tony insists, putting a hand on the side of Bruce’s face, his thumb brushing Bruce’s cheek. “If he hadn’t tried to take over the world, we never would have needed the Other Guy, and you would still be in Kolkata.” Tony pauses. “Strike that. I wouldn’t have known you were alive, and I wouldn’t have the chance to blackmail you into working for Stark Industries.”

 

Bruce smiles, in spite of himself. “You don’t need to blackmail me. I know I can trust you not to trick me into making weapons.”

 

“Never,” Tony promises. “Bruce, the offer is still open. The offer is always going to be open, and I _like_ the Other Guy. He saved my life, quite literally.”

 

Bruce opens his mouth to reply, and Tony holds up a hand. “Just think about it. Tell me tomorrow. Right now, you need clothing so that you can get shawarma with the rest of us when the others get back. Okay?”

 

“I don’t have any other clothes,” Bruce protests.

 

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have any clothing _here_. I know you better than that. You at least have a clean shirt.”

 

“That one actually got ripped to shreds,” Bruce admits.

 

“Okay, time to raid my closet, then,” Tony announces cheerfully.

 

Bruce has enough of his pants left after his transformation to feel comfortable leaving Thor’s cloak—or is it a cape?—on the couch. Tony picks a careful path through broken glass, back to an area of the Penthouse that has to be the living quarters. They pass a few doors, but the double doors at the end of the hallway clearly grant access to the master bedroom.

 

From there, Tony leads the way to a closet so large that Bruce can only stare. “You never had this many clothes when we were kids.”

 

“I still don’t have that many clothes I _wear_ ,” Tony says defensively. “It’s the suits and tuxes that take the most space. If I could be in the workshop full time, it wouldn’t be necessary. Do you have any preferences?”

 

Bruce feels a little strange at the idea of wearing Tony’s clothes, but he doesn’t have a lot of options right now. “Anything you don’t mind parting with.”

 

“Not helpful,” Tony says. “Fine, I’ll pick something.”

 

And that might actually be weirder, because not only is Bruce _wearing Tony’s clothes_ , he’s also letting Tony pick them out.

 

“Tony,” Bruce begins in a half-hearted protest.

 

Tony glances at him. “You need clothes, and I have them. Don’t make this weird.”

 

Bruce huffs out a laugh. “You’ve said that before.”

 

“And you didn’t make it weird, and now here we are,” Tony says with a grin, grabbing a pair of pants and a black shirt. “Those should do well enough for now. I’ll make sure you have some other things for the next few days, at least until you can get your own.”

 

Bruce is tired, and he’s grown used to accepting the kindness of strangers, at least when it’s offered. Tony isn’t a stranger, though, and that almost makes it worse. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Tony says. “Do you want to get cleaned up first? You might have time for a quick shower.”

 

Bruce really wants a hot shower, but he knows that once he gets clean, the only thing he’s going to want to do is face plant in bed. His best bet is to drag on clothing and just keep moving.

 

“No,” he says, pulling Tony’s shirt on over his head. “Let’s just get through this. If I stop, I’m not going to be able to move again.”

 

They meet the others in the lobby, and it’s clear that they’re all exhausted, so Bruce doesn’t have to make conversation, and the shawarma place is only a couple of blocks away. Tony hands over a wad of cash to the owner, and a few minutes later, their table is covered in red plastic baskets, filled with stuffed sandwiches and thick-cut fries.

 

Rogers is so tired he rests his head on his closed fist, and Barton has one foot propped up on Natasha’s chair. Thor is devouring his food without so much as looking at anybody else, and Bruce occasionally snatches a fry from Tony’s plate.

 

He’s pretty sure that Natasha has figured out that he and Tony have known each other for more than a couple of days, but Bruce doesn’t really care at this point. If SHIELD knows, or if they figure it out, they do.

 

“Does everybody have somewhere to stay?” Tony asks when they’ve cleared their plates.

 

“I will be staying close to my brother,” Thor says. “I plan to keep watch.”

 

“I’m going home,” Steve announces wearily. “I think we’re supposed to have a debriefing tomorrow.”

 

Natasha straightens slightly. “Agent Barton and I are expected back at HQ.”

 

“Bruce?” Tony prompts. “You want to bunk over at my place?”

 

Bruce blinks. He’s close to falling asleep over his food, and he has to work to focus. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks. That would be great.”

 

Barton snickers, and Natasha knocks his foot off her chair. “We should go,” she announces.

 

Bruce wonders if she’ll ever forgive him for scaring her as he had—or maybe she _has_ forgiven him, but he doubts that she’ll ever feel comfortable in his presence.

 

Maybe she shouldn’t; no one should. It’s just that Tony is the only one crazy enough to try.

 

But Natasha pulls him aside as they leave. “I’ll bring your bag for you tomorrow, Dr. Banner.”

 

Bruce nods. “Look, about what happened—”

 

“Don’t.” Her expression is almost sympathetic. “I knew what I was getting myself into. I promise, I will do my best to be completely honest in the future.”

 

It feels like a pact. “That means a lot.”

 

“It should,” Natasha says, and she might almost be smiling.

 

Bruce glances over her shoulder at Barton, who’s lounging against a SHIELD-issue SUV. He hasn’t met the man, not really, but he knows what it’s like to not be in control of your own body. “Is he going to be okay?”

 

“Probably less okay when he hears about Coulson,” Natasha admits.

 

Bruce blinks. “Wait, I don’t—no one told me.”

 

“We’ve been a little preoccupied,” Natasha says. “And I want to get Clint somewhere safe before I dump that on him. Besides, the Other Guy did a number on Loki.”

 

Bruce suspects that Natasha has figured out that the Other Guy is always a threat, but that there are situations when he can be used. The promise of potentially being able to control the outcome, or at least having a roadmap, is probably immensely comforting to someone like her.

 

Bruce wishes he could be so sanguine.

 

Tony slings an arm over his shoulders as they start back toward the Tower on foot. There are already SHIELD crews on the street, cleaning up rubble and other things best not looked at too closely.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I could sleep for a week,” Tony announces.

 

“At least a few days,” Bruce agrees. “Thanks for dinner, by the way. I was hungry.”

 

Tony grins. “Smashing things will work up an appetite.”

 

“And a need to sleep for a week,” Bruce admits. “Are you okay?”

 

Tony freezes when the question is asked. “I beg your pardon?”

 

Bruce sighs. “I remember enough this time, okay? I have a vague idea of what happened.”

 

“You saved my life,” Tony replies. “Like I said. What I didn’t say is that I was dead. I _should_ be dead, and I’m not.”

 

Bruce thinks about that for a moment. “It’s disconcerting, huh?”

 

“I’d say you have no idea, but I’m pretty sure you do,” Tony says. “Look, Pepper isn’t going to be able to get back into the city until tomorrow, or maybe later, depending on if they let any planes land in the New York City area, which isn’t guaranteed.”

 

Bruce nods. “Okay.”

 

“Okay, what?” Tony asks.

 

“Okay to whatever you need from me,” Bruce replies. “Within reason.”

 

He can hear Tony’s sigh of relief. “You’ll stay with me tonight?”

 

“Tony, you made me a job offer,” Bruce says quietly. “You’re my best friend, and I haven’t seen you in years. If you wanted to just watch _Star Wars_ all night, I’d somehow force myself to stay awake for it.”

 

“Even without the sex?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “Don’t get me wrong, the sex was amazing, but that’s not what I wanted from you.”

 

“So you were in it for my devilish good looks?” Tony teases.

 

Bruce snorts. “Please. You were no more than cute as a teenager.”

 

“Excuse you!” Tony protests, and Bruce knows that he’s managed to distract Tony from his doldrums. “Like you can talk.”

 

“Oh, everyone loves me for my brain,” Bruce agrees. “And in spite of my incredible anger management problems.”

 

Tony opens his mouth, and then shuts it with a snap. Bruce suspects he’d been about to make an ill-timed declaration of love, considering that Pepper is coming back, and they’re no longer together. “I’m not ready to let you out of my sight yet,” he admits.

 

“Your bed is huge,” Bruce points out. “You won’t know I’m there.”

 

“That kind of defeats the purpose.”

 

“Then I’ll talk to you until you go to sleep, and if you wake up, you’ll know where to find me,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony had done the same for him on a couple of occasions, making nearly the same promise.

 

They’re in the elevator at Stark Tower by now, and they’re alone, so Tony pulls Bruce close, as handsy as he’d been when they were kids. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce says, leaning into Tony’s touch, trying not to think about how long it’s been. “I still owe you for the clothes.”

 

“We’ll call it even,” Tony replies, pressing his cheek to Bruce’s. “It’s not like I can wear all of them, anyway.”

 

They get ready for bed in silence, and Bruce is reminded once again of the time they’d spent together as teenagers, first at MIT, and then at Bruce’s aunt’s place, and Tony’s parents’ when they’d gotten ready for bed side-by-side. They’d jostled each other at the sink, and slept within arm’s reach.

 

Bruce isn’t willing to sleep with someone else while naked, so he borrows a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. The room is dark, although the arc reactor shines through Tony’s thin tank top, and Bruce rolls to face him.

 

He likes seeing it, like a nightlight. He’s just about asleep when Tony says, “You awake?”

 

Bruce blinks. “Yeah.”

 

“What you said on the helicarrier,” Tony says.

 

Bruce winces. He should have known that Tony would ask him about that. “Yeah.”

 

“When was it?”

 

Bruce rubs his eyes. “Tony, let’s not do this now.”

 

“When are we going to do it, then?” Tony asks. “Please.”

 

Bruce closes his eyes. “It was when you’d been gone for two months in Afghanistan. They said you weren’t going to come home.”

 

Tony makes a pained noise. “Bruce…”

 

“I didn’t want to live in a world you weren’t in,” Bruce says, because he figures that if he’s in for a penny, he might as well be in for a pound. “Like I said, I couldn’t see a way out.”

 

Tony rolls over, closing the distance between them until his hand lands on Bruce’s arm, squeezing tightly. “And after? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you not trust me to help you?”

 

Bruce really doesn’t want to have this conversation, now or ever, but he owes Tony the truth. “I couldn’t risk hurting you, that was part of it.”

 

“And after I announced I was Iron Man?” Tony presses. “Hard to hurt me when I’m in the suit.”

 

“I fucked up,” Bruce admits. “I went ahead with testing even though it was a bad idea. I bought Ross’ lies that it wasn’t a weapons program. And then I couldn’t handle it. You were out saving the world, and I was wallowing in my misery. I figured the best thing I could do was stay out of your way and follow your example, helping people.”

 

There’s a long silence, and Tony finally sighs. “I think we’ve both learned a very important lesson from all of this.”

 

Bruce lets out a bitter laugh. “What’s that?”

 

“Two geniuses are always better than one.”

 

Bruce can’t help the grin that forms. “Look, I know I don’t have any right to ask you for this—”

 

“Ask me for whatever you want,” Tony says grandly. “You saved my life.”

 

“Does that mean you’re going to let me off the hook for disappearing on you?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony snorts. “Forgiven, but never forgotten. What do you need?”

 

“I have to see my aunt,” Bruce says. “Will you go with me? She probably still likes you.”

 

Tony chuckles. “Oh, she loves _me_. I send her flowers. Regularly.”

 

Bruce groans. “So?”

 

“Jen is here in New York, you know,” Tony says. “We could fly Elaine out here.”

 

Bruce sits up quickly, dislodging Tony’s hand. “Jen’s here? I have to—”

 

“Relax,” Tony says, tugging Bruce back down. “This is what I have Jarvis for, remember? He’s tracking Jen and Elaine, and it just so happens Jen is out of town on business right now. But the press is going to be around when we see Thor and his asshole brother off tomorrow, which means your face is going to be in the news.”

 

Bruce buries his head in his pillow. “Fuck me.”

 

“I’m taken, but thanks for the offer,” Tony quips. “I’ve got you covered, although I would suggest calling them tomorrow _before_ we meet the others. And yes, I will either fly Elaine out here, or I’ll fly you and Jen out to her.”

 

Bruce feels Tony rub his back, and he lets out a breath. “Thanks—for looking out for them, too.”

 

“I’ve got you, man,” Tony says softly. “Hey, come on. I’ve got you. It’s you and me, Big Guy.”

 

“Always,” Bruce says, completing the promise.

 

And they fall asleep like that, with Tony’s hand on Bruce’s back, and Bruce hearing someone breathing next to him.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony wakes with a start, sitting up with a gasp, trying to catch his breath.

 

“Hey.”

 

He suddenly remembers that Bruce is in bed with him. “Did I wake you?”

 

“Something woke you,” Bruce counters. “You want to talk about it?”

 

“Not even a little bit.”

 

“Then let’s get up,” Bruce says. “Come on. How are you feeling?”

 

Tony moans. “I can’t move.”

 

Bruce actually laughs at him, which just proves that he’s an asshole. “I’ll help.”

 

He does help, rolling out of bed and coming around to Tony’s side, moving at Tony’s pace, until Tony’s on his feet. Tony feels bruised all over, and it takes some effort to get moving, but Bruce shows an infinite patience.

 

“How come you aren’t sore?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs off the question. “I never am the day after, as long as I can get some sleep or food fairly quickly.”

 

“And if you don’t?” Tony asks, distracted from his own stiffness by the pursuit of information, as always.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “It just takes longer.”

 

Tony makes a mental note to ensure that Bruce has what he needs after a transformation. He’s not sure how he’s going to do that, particularly if Bruce doesn’t cooperate, but he’ll think of something.

 

He always does.

 

Neither of them bother to dress immediately, stumbling out into the main room in search of coffee, remembering at the last moment that there’s broken glass still on the floor.

 

“Shit,” Tony says succinctly. “I should probably get someone in here to deal with that.”

 

“There has to be coffee in one of the labs, right?” Bruce asks philosophically, and Tony probably shouldn’t be surprised that Bruce knows Tony well enough to expect as much.

 

They retreat to the bedroom only to put shoes on—they still wear the same size, which is handy, since Bruce doesn’t have any spare pairs—and then take the elevator down a couple of floors where Bruce starts a pot of coffee.

 

Once it’s brewing, Bruce looks around. “You were right.”

 

“I’m always right,” Tony says automatically. “But be specific.”

 

Bruce laughs. “It’s Candyland.”

 

“Oh, that, yes, of course,” Tony says. “And it can all be yours. Or at least partially yours. I’m happy to set aside a lab and stock it with whatever you want.”

 

It’s probably too much, but Tony is feeling a little desperate to keep Bruce with him. Bruce has made no move to leave, and had asked for Tony to be with him when he contacts Elaine and Jen, but that doesn’t mean he won’t disappear at some point.

 

“I get to set my own agenda,” Bruce says quietly. “I want to focus on humanitarian projects. I’ll let you have the patents if you promise to make any breakthroughs available to the people who really need them.”

 

“Yes,” Tony agrees. “Of course. You’ll retain control of any patents.”

 

Bruce shoots him a look. “That’s incredibly generous. I’d say your bias was showing if I didn’t know better.”

 

“I’m working in clean energy,” Tony replies. “Stark Industries is working with intelli-crops, and other areas. What do you want to do, Bruce? Name it, and I’ll make sure you have the resources you need to get it done.”

 

Bruce stares down at his cup of coffee. “I want to build something, Tony, to make up for all the destruction I’ve caused.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “I get that.”

 

Bruce glances up, clearly startled, and then he smiles. “Yeah, I guess you would.”

 

Tony has no idea what might have happened next if Jarvis hadn’t interrupted them. “Sir, Miss Potts is calling. Shall I put her through?”

 

Tony had spoken to her briefly while waiting for Bruce to wake up the day before, just to reassure her that he was alive and in one piece.

 

He clears his throat and says, “Yeah, go ahead.”

 

“Tony? How are you? Are you sure you’re okay?” Pepper asks.

 

“We—I’m _fine_ ,” Tony assures her. “How soon will you be back?”

 

“Tonight,” Pepper replies. “We couldn’t get clearance to land until then.”

 

“You were probably lucky to get it at all,” Tony replies. “At least in the next few days. Are you okay?”

 

“Fine,” she says quickly. “What about the others? Phil and Natasha?”

 

“Natasha is fine,” Tony replies. “Phil—Phil didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Pepper.”

 

Pepper makes a pained noise. “I see. I’ll be there this evening.”

 

“I’ll meet you at the airport,” Tony promises, because he feels as though he ought to prepare Pepper for coming back to find that they have a houseguest. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

 

“How is the Tower?” she asks, probably because she believes she’ll get a straight answer out of him about the building even if he shades the truth as to his physical well being.

 

“Some minor cosmetic damage, but nothing too bad,” Tony assures her. “Nothing like the rest of Manhattan.”

 

“I’m already putting together a few proposals for how we might aid in the rebuilding efforts,” she says. “It only makes sense.”

 

Tony smiles. “I knew I could count on you, Pep.”

 

“Always,” she says archly, but there’s a catch in her voice.

 

Tony hasn’t exactly been entirely honest with her about what had happened, about the nuke or the hole in space or very nearly dying. He’ll have to tell her eventually, of course, but he’s saving it for when he sees her in person.

 

Right about the time when he tells her that he’s hiring one Dr. Bruce Banner.

 

“We’re wrapping up the Avengers business this morning,” Tony says. “And we’ve got a houseguest.”

 

“One of the Avengers, I assume,” Pepper says.

 

“That’s right,” Tony agrees. “I’ll tell you all about it when you get in.”

 

Her voice trembles a bit. “Five o’clock, Tony. Don’t be late.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tony says.

 

“I saw the news footage,” Pepper says. “Whoever caught you—tell him thank you.”

 

Tony has no idea how _anyone_ got video of the Hulk catching him, let alone how it made the evening news. “I will,” he promises, neglecting to mention that Bruce is standing right there.

 

The call ends, and he turns to look at Bruce, who appears very uncomfortable. “I don’t have to stay.”

 

“Bruce,” Tony murmurs. “Please don’t make me ask again. You can get your own place if you want, if that will make you comfortable, but stay here until you do.”

 

Bruce shifts uneasily. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

 

“You heard Pepper,” Tony replies. “She’s going to love you. She already likes you.”

 

“How much are you going to tell her?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony sighs. “I’ll tell her enough. She’s observant, you know? And we try to be honest with each other these days.”

 

Bruce nods. “Is me being here going to be a problem?”

 

“You’re my best friend,” Tony says simply. “That’s the important thing.”

 

“Don’t forget the fact that I saved your life,” Bruce says with a tentative smile. “Tell me if I’m in the way.”

 

“You won’t be, but I will.” Tony drinks the rest of his coffee and straightens. “We’d better get ready. I think we’re due at SHIELD HQ in an hour or so.”

 

Tony dresses carefully, knowing there will be press when they send off Thor and Loki—and really, there would be press just because Tony is there, but the glare of the spotlight will be even brighter now. And Bruce hasn’t had a lot of positive interactions with the press, so Tony picks out something for him, too.

 

His clothes fit Bruce well enough, and Bruce looks both cheerful and nonthreatening in yellow and gray. Tony goes with gray and purple, which won’t clash with Bruce.

 

And if Bruce looks really good in yellow—that’s no skin off Tony’s nose.

 

They wouldn’t have to do this in public, but Tony understands that sending Thor and Loki back to Asgard with the tesseract is a big “fuck you” to the World Security Council. Loki is bound and gagged, and Tony pauses to wonder where SHIELD had come up with the equipment.

 

Either Thor had brought his own, created his own, or someone at SHIELD is _really_ kinky.

 

Given the look on Loki’s face he’s not entirely unhappy with the situation, and that makes Tony wonder what Loki’s planning, but in a few moments, Loki won’t be their problem, and Tony figures that’s worth celebrating.

 

They stand in a loose circle around Thor and Loki, but they don’t say much. Thor nods to them, holding one end of the container with the tesseract inside. After a moment’s hesitation, Loki takes the other end, and with a twist of Thor’s wrist, they’re enveloped in light and then they’re gone.

 

Bruce joins Natasha and Barton at the car they’re using to collect his bag, and Rogers approaches Tony. “It was a pleasure to work with you, Mr. Stark.”

 

“No, it wasn’t,” Tony replies with a smirk. “I was a pain in the ass.”

 

Rogers smiles at that. “Maybe, but we got the job done. _You_ got the job done.”

 

Tony shrugs, a little surprised at the praise. “Take care of yourself, Cap. Let me know if you need anything.”

 

“You too,” Rogers replies. “Same goes for Banner.”

 

Bruce puts his bag in Tony’s car and climbs into the passenger seat. “I need to call my aunt before my face is all over the news.”

 

“You definitely do,” Tony says. “Once we get back to the Tower, I’ll let you have your privacy.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Bruce says quietly. “You could stay.”

 

Tony glances over at him. “You sure?”

 

Bruce winces. “Considering that she’s probably going to yell at me, I wouldn’t mind having the support.”

 

Tony decides not to point out that Elaine has every reason to be angry, because Bruce knows that already. He’s already made his point, and he thinks Bruce needs his support more than his anger right now.

 

Since the Penthouse is still a mess, they go to one of the labs, and Tony hands Bruce his cell phone. “She still has the same number.”

 

Bruce nods, and then quickly dials the number, rubbing his free hand on his pant leg.

 

Tony busies himself in another corner of the lab, close enough to be there for Bruce, but not crowding him.

 

“No, it’s not Tony, it’s me,” Bruce says. “It’s Bruce.”

 

Tony keeps an ear open, although he can only hear Bruce’s side of the conversation.

 

“No, I’m sorry,” Bruce is saying. “There was an accident, and it was too dangerous.”

 

“Yes, I’m with Tony. No, he didn’t know.”

 

“All over. I couldn’t risk staying in one place.”

 

“No, I don’t have to hide anymore. I’m staying with Tony right now. Yeah, I’m going to work for Stark Industries …Yeah, just like old times… And Jen?”

 

“Okay, that’s good,” Bruce says. “Yeah, sure. He’s right here.”

 

Tony takes the phone that Bruce holds out and says, “Hi, Elaine.”

 

“Did you know about this?” Elaine demands. Apparently, she hadn’t believed Bruce, and probably with good reason. He and Bruce had covered for each other in the past.

 

“I just found out that he was alive a couple of days ago,” Tony admits.

 

“And you didn’t call me immediately?” she asks sharply.

 

Tony winces. “We _were_ a little busy saving the world.”

 

She sniffs. “I do get text messages now, Tony. Are you keeping an eye on him?”

 

“You know it,” Tony promises. “Pepper will be back tonight. I can send the jet to you, or I can send Bruce your way.”

 

She sighs. “Jen’s heading back to the city just as soon as she can, so I’d rather come to you. Besides, I haven’t seen you in years, and I’d like to be sure that you’re both in one piece.”

 

“We are,” Tony promises. “We’re okay. Bruce saved my life, you know.”

 

Elaine laughs, although she sounds a little teary. “You boys always did look out for each other.”

 

“Will you come?” Tony asks.

 

“Of course I will,” Elaine replies. “I’ll start packing.”

 

He smiles. “I’ll make sure you have somewhere to stay.”

 

“Put Bruce back on?”

 

“Sure,” Tony replies, handing the phone back to Bruce.

 

Bruce turns away, speaking in low tones so that Tony can only hear low murmurs. When he hangs up and turns to look at Tony, his eyes look suspiciously moist. “I have to call Jen, too.”

 

“You okay?”

 

Bruce shrugs, and his jaw works. “Yeah.”

 

“We all missed you, Bruce,” Tony says gently.

 

Bruce scrubs his hands over his face. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

 

“Call your cousin,” Tony advises.

 

“She’s going to yell at me, too.”

 

“And then we’ll have a drink and do some science until I have to meet Pepper,” Tony replies, clapping him on the shoulder.

 

This time, Tony gives Bruce his privacy, and when he returns with a beer for Bruce and a glass of Scotch for himself, Bruce is slumped on a stool, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes.

 

“Shake it off,” Tony advises. “They’ll forgive you.”

 

Bruce nods and takes a long drink of beer. “I need a distraction.”

 

“It just so happens that I have one,” Tony replies. “How would you like to see the plans for the arc reactor up close?”

 

“I didn’t think you let anyone see those,” Bruce replies.

 

“I don’t,” Tony replies. “You’re not ‘anyone.’”

 

Bruce’s smile turns shy. “Thanks.”

 

“Let’s get to work,” Tony says.

 

They jump from the arc reactor to working on one of Bruce’s proposals to clean up polluted water supplies, humming right along until Jarvis announces, “You wished to be reminded of Miss Potts’ arrival, sir.”

 

“Already?” Tony asks, and glances at the clock. “You okay here by yourself?”

 

Bruce gives him a sardonic look. “I think I’ll be fine on my own for a little while anyway, Tony.”

 

“Just make sure you’re here when I get back,” Tony replies. “I want you to meet Pepper.”

 

He doesn’t allow his nerves to show until he’s in the car, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. Tony has had precisely two relationships that made it past the one-month mark. Mostly, he’d stuck with one-night stands or long weekends after Bruce; Pepper is the only other person he’s ever loved.

 

Tony really wants them to get along. He wants them to like each other.

 

He’s not sure what he’ll do if they don’t.

 

He has his nerves under control by the time he reaches the airport, and he parks and goes to meet Pepper, timing it so that she’s just getting off the plane when he strolls up to the private hangar.

 

“Tony!” she calls, moving down the stairs much faster than most could in five-inch heels.

 

Tony wraps his arms around her, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around, in spite of his sore muscles.

 

Pepper kisses him deeply and then presses her forehead against his. “You’re okay.”

 

“I’m okay,” he promises. “Are you?”

 

She pulls back and sniffs. “You tried to call, and I didn’t pick up. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony insists. “There’s nothing I could have said then that I can’t say now.”

 

“Like what?” Pepper asks.

 

“I love you,” Tony says.

 

Pepper pulls back. “Tony, just how close was this?”

 

Tony swallows. “I was lucky Bruce was there.”

 

“Is that—the Hulk?” Pepper asks.

 

“When he’s not green,” Tony confirms. “Come on. Let someone else get your baggage. I’ll take the long way home, and we’ll talk.”

 

Pepper slides into the passenger seat when they reach the car, and asks, “What aren’t you telling me?”

 

Tony starts the car and waits until they’re on the road before he says, “Did I ever tell you about the time my dad shipped me off to science camp when I was fourteen?”

 

Pepper frowns. “No, and I’m not sure what that has to do with you nearly dying.”

 

“My roommate was Bruce Banner,” Tony says. “Every year, there was a competition, and we won handily. He was the smartest guy there, other than yours truly.”

 

Pepper is sharp, and it doesn’t take her long to figure it out. “You’ve known the Hulk for thirty years?”

 

“He wasn’t always the Hulk,” Tony says. “And Bruce calls him the Other Guy.”

 

“Why didn’t you ever talk about him?” Pepper asks. “I didn’t think you had any friends other than Rhodey.”

 

Tony hesitates. “We were really close when we were teenagers. When my parents died, I called Bruce. Obadiah—he thought we were _too_ close.”

 

“I see,” Pepper murmurs. “Were you?”

 

Tony clutches the steering wheel. He’s never had this conversation before. With as many women as he’d slept with—and sometimes more than one at a time—Bruce is the only man.

 

It’s the first coming out speech Tony’s given.

 

“Obadiah wasn’t wrong about that,” Tony admits.

 

Pepper frowns. “He told you that a gay man couldn’t lead Stark Industries.”

 

Tony shrugs. “And he wasn’t wrong. It would have been difficult, and Bruce still had to get his Ph.D. We stayed friends, but we kept it quiet. And then he had his accident, and I thought he was dead for the last six years.”

 

“Does this change anything, knowing he’s alive?” Pepper asks.

 

Tony glances over at her. “I love _you_. We both moved on, Pep. All this means is that I got my best friend back. I’d really like it if you guys got along.”

 

He can’t read her expression, and he has no idea what she’s thinking, and then she says simply, “He’s your friend, Tony, and he saved your life. That’s all I need to know.”

 

“He’s a good guy who got dealt a bad hand, Pep,” Tony replies. “It could have been me, you know? And his aunt was like a second mom to me.”

 

Pepper frowns. “Elaine Walters?”

 

Tony glances at her. “How did you know?”

 

“You had me send flowers a few times,” Pepper says with a smile. “I did a little research and realized she’d been married to the Los Angeles County Sheriff. You sent a couple of bouquets to her daughter, too.”

 

“She’s like a sister to me,” Tony insists.

 

Pepper puts a hand over his. “Will I get to meet them, too?”

 

“Jen lives in New York,” Tony says. “I’m flying Elaine in.”

 

“Is Bruce going to stick around for a while?” Pepper asks lightly.

 

Tony shrugs. “He’s going to work for Stark Industries, but I think he’ll make his home base New York. Once the remodeling process is underway, I thought we’d head back to Malibu.”

 

Pepper glances at him. “Are you sure? I thought you’d want to stay in New York for a while.”

 

Tony shudders. He can’t imagine staying in New York now, when every glance at the sky reminds him of the tear in space, of a starry, silent expanse, and imminent death.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” Tony says quietly. “I want to go home.”

 

“Of course,” Pepper agrees readily, and Tony wonders what she sees when she looks at him. “If that’s what you want.”

 

“It is,” Tony says. “But we can give it some time.”

 

Pepper sighs. “This was too close.”

 

Tony doesn’t reply, letting his silence speak for him, where normally he would protest that he was fine, that he’d had it, that there was never any danger.

 

He’d been close to death more than a few times, but he already knows that _this_ had been different. _This_ had been Tony lying down on the wire with no way out.

 

And in the end, Tony hadn’t been the one to save himself; no, that had been Bruce.

 

He’s holding Pepper’s hand when they step out of the elevator, and he’s a little surprised to see that someone has cleared up the broken glass and put plastic up over the windows.

 

Bruce is in the kitchen area, foil containers spread out over the bar. “I ordered dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

 

“I’m starving,” Pepper replies. “You must be Bruce.”

 

Bruce approaches warily, holding out a hand. “And you must be the famous Pepper. Tony’s talked about you a lot.”

 

“Good things, I hope,” Pepper replies, shaking his hand.

 

“Nothing but good things,” Bruce confirms. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too.” Pepper smiles at him, and Tony can see her determination. Bruce is Tony’s oldest friend, and so they’ll both try to get along.

 

Tony’s grateful, but he also feels as though his past and present are colliding. It’s strange, and it leaves him off-kilter.

 

But he’s grateful, because it appears as though he won’t have to choose between them, at least not now.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce likes Pepper a lot, actually, and he’s grateful for it. That makes it easier to be happy for Tony, and to remember that Bruce can’t offer him much at this point.

 

Pepper is kind and intelligent, and she’s a good listener, and she wants to know about science camp, and the winter break Tony had mostly spent with Bruce and his family, and how they’d surfed together.

 

Bruce realizes that there’s no one in Tony’s life who has known him as long as Bruce has, and he doesn’t mind telling her stories about those days. They skip over their European vacation entirely, which is probably for the best, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

 

It’s late when Bruce says, “I think I’m going to bed. Sleep well, you two.”

 

“It was a real pleasure to meet you, Bruce,” Pepper says. “And thank you.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “I didn’t do all that much.”

 

Pepper gives him a look.

 

Bruce smiles. “You’re welcome.”

 

“That’s better,” Pepper replies.

 

Bruce meets Tony’s eyes, and Tony doesn’t even hesitate to grab Bruce in for a hug, clapping him on the back. “Thanks, buddy.”

 

“Sleep well,” Bruce replies.

 

He doesn’t, really. He lies awake for hours, unable to turn his mind off, thinking about meeting Jen and Elaine the next day. They don’t hate him, he knows that. They’re family, and they love him, but he’s hurt them terribly.

 

And Bruce knows he’d fucked up. He’d known he was hurting them at the time, and he’d still stayed away. He’d just thought they’d be better off without him. He still thinks that, but he’s realized it’s only fair to let them make the decision.

 

They might decide Bruce is more trouble than he’s worth; he’s been waiting for them to figure that out for years now.

 

Eventually, he gives up, and heads down to the lab. He has more than a few ideas to improve the standard of living in the areas of the world where he’d been living where clean water is an issue, as is communicable disease. Bruce figures he can get a head start on them.

 

Somehow, he’s not surprised to see Tony in the lab they’d been using, a large, holographic arc reactor in front of him.

 

“You’re still awake.”

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tony says absently. “Also, pot meet kettle.”

 

“Do you want some help?” Bruce offers.

 

Tony dismisses the projection with a wave of his hand. “Right now? No. I want a new project. I want something so fantastical, people will think it’s magic.”

 

“Personal force field?” Bruce suggests. “Teleporter? Light sabers?”

 

“Light sabers!” Tony leaps on the suggestion immediately. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

 

They work late into the night, and Bruce reminds himself that the science has more applications than just a real world prototype of a nerd’s toy.

 

“Go to bed,” Bruce advises eventually. “It’s either really late, or really early, and you should get some sleep if you can.”

 

Tony looks at him. “Every time I close my eyes, I see that hole in space. It’s a nightmare.”

 

Bruce feels a spike of sympathy. “Tony, you can’t just not sleep.”

 

“Tell that to my brain,” Tony counters. “I’d rather be working here with you.”

 

Bruce doesn’t want to go to bed either, so he shrugs. “If you want to keep going, I won’t stop you.”

 

Pepper finds them like that the next morning. “Were you two up all night?”

 

“Science to do,” Tony replies absently.

 

“This may come as a shock, but you’re still a mere mortal, and humans need sleep,” Pepper replies.

 

Bruce doesn’t look up from his equations. “She has a point, Tony.”

 

“You’re also not sleeping,” Tony points out.

 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “I’m also not entirely human.”

 

“Human enough to need sleep,” Tony counters.

 

Bruce shrugs. “I’m sure my aunt will nag me into a good night’s sleep.” He’s equally certain that he won’t sleep well until after he’s seen them again.

 

“Are you sure Elaine won’t stay in a hotel?” Tony asks.

 

“She’s happy to stay with Jen,” Bruce replies. “Especially since Jen’s place was well away from the path of destruction.”

 

“I guess that’s one good reason to live out in Queens,” Tony says. “When is she getting back in?”

 

“She rented a car, so she’s driving in,” Bruce replies.

 

“I can let you borrow a car, or I can send you with a driver,” Tony offers. “I thought we might get dinner together tomorrow night, if it’s okay with Pepper.”

 

Bruce had almost forgotten Pepper’s presence. “I think that can be arranged,” she agrees. “I’m looking forward to it. Tony? We need to talk about renovations for the Penthouse.”

 

“I’ll see you both later,” Bruce says, resolving to stay out of the way for the rest of the day. He doesn’t want to ruin things for Tony, or wear out his welcome too quickly.

 

He still remembers how Obadiah had responded to his presence, and he wants to avoid a repeat performance with Pepper.

 

The equipment in Tony’s lab is state of the art, and it’s easy to distract himself and focus on a few projects, at least until it comes time to leave. When he returns to the guest room, he finds more clean clothes hanging in the closet and a couple of pairs of shoes. His bag is at the end of the bed, and there are toiletries in the bathroom of a better quality than Bruce usually gets.

 

He probably ought to get used to the creature comforts, since it appears that he’ll be staying for a while.

 

Maybe Bruce would think about leaving, particularly if he felt he was in the way, but he’d already accepted Tony’s offer of a job, and Stark Industries has a lot of locations. He could stay here in New York and find his own place, or go to California, or go to one of the other locations.

 

But he thinks he’d rather stay in New York, where Jen is usually located. Maybe his aunt would agree to move here.

 

Bruce pulls on a clean blue dress shirt and black slacks, both of which fit better than anything he’d worn in ages. He’s used to buying second-hand clothing that no one else wants, in a size that’s just a little too big.

 

But he feels the need to dress with care, knowing that will assuage some of his aunt’s worries if he looks like he’s doing okay. It’s all still second-hand, but much nicer than anything Bruce finds in the shops.

 

He slides into the backseat of the car that Tony arranged, and feels the pull of the jacket across his shoulders as he settles in.

 

Bruce closes his eyes, his weariness pulling at him, and he half-dozes on the drive to the airport. Tony has arranged for the car to be at Bruce’s disposal while Elaine is in town.

 

The driver takes him to the private hangar where the Stark Industries jet lands, and Bruce wakes up, rubbing his eyes and climbing out of the car. The jet has just taxied into place, and one of the attendants deploys the stairs

 

His aunt looks a little older, her hair completely gray now, turning to silver, with more lines around her eyes and mouth, but her face creases in delight as she catches sight of him.

 

“Bruce!”

 

She’s in fashionable jeans and a pastel blouse, looking fresh as a daisy, and she moves down the stairs with a spryness that belies her years, wrapping her arms around Bruce, holding him fiercely.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“I’m just so glad you’re okay,” his aunt replies. She pulls back to search his face. “You look good.” She touches his hair. “Although you’re going silver.”

 

Bruce manages a smile. “I am. It’s good to see you.”

 

“Swear to me that you won’t disappear again,” Aunt Elaine insists.

 

“I already promised Tony the same thing,” Bruce says. “I think it’s safe for me to stay now.”

 

“And you couldn’t have sent a postcard?” his aunt asks, slapping him on the chest. “I’m not an idiot. You could have let me know in some kind of code.”

 

To his aunt, Bruce feels as though he can speak the truth. “I was afraid.”

 

“I saw the news,” she replies. “I know what happens when you get upset, and I still love you. You are my child in every way that matters. And if you ever disappear on me again, I will hunt you down, and you will not like what happens.”

 

Bruce has _missed_ her, and he hugs her again, pressing his forehead against the top of her head. “I won’t.”

 

“Well, I know that Tony won’t let you,” his aunt says. “He’s a good boy.”

 

Bruce laughs to hear anyone refer to Tony as a boy. “He is.”

 

“Come on, let’s meet your cousin,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

 

Jen had promised to meet them at her apartment, and she’s standing outside on the stoop, looking exactly like her mother, but a few inches taller.

 

“You’re still an asshole,” Jen announces as soon as they stop out of the hired car.

 

“I know,” Bruce agrees. “I’m sorry.”

 

Jen rolls her eyes. “Enough of that. Just don’t do it again.”

 

“Promise,” Bruce says.

 

“Good enough,” Jen announces. “Get over here, you jerk.”

 

She hugs him tightly, and Bruce had forgotten this, had forgotten how it felt to have someone hug him, to pull him close, to give a fuck about him.

 

“No disappearing,” Bruce promises, unprompted. “I’ll likely be staying here in New York, depending on where Stark Industries can use me.”

 

“As long as I have your phone number,” Jen replies. “And I will bug you.”

 

“From you, I don’t consider it being a nuisance,” Bruce assures her.

 

Jen grins. “Well, if you two don’t mind, I thought we’d hit the Chinese restaurant down the street.”

 

It’s a hole in the wall, but the food is good, fresh and authentic, and he appreciates the opportunity to get caught up. Jen talks about her new job at the New York law firm, and Aunt Elaine talks about her volunteering at various schools and libraries, helping to teach children to read, and Bruce sits back and listens, happy to be with his family again.

 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Jen asks as they get to the end of their dinner.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “You don’t have room for me.”

 

“There’s a spot on the floor,” Jen says. “I think I have an air mattress somewhere, or maybe a sleeping bag.”

 

Bruce is about to refuse, but then he remembers that Tony will be sleeping with Pepper tonight, and he won’t need Bruce. He thinks it might be easier to sleep with his family close by. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll just call Tony and let him know not to expect me.”

 

“Is he still dating Pepper Potts?” Jen asks.

 

Bruce nods. “She seems nice.”

 

“You met her, then?” Elaine asks.

 

Bruce feels as though there’s an undercurrent to the questions. “They seem to be a good match. I’m sure she was happy to get back to find Tony in one piece.”

 

Aunt Elaine makes a face. “From the news footage, that was a near thing.”

 

“Closer than I want to consider,” Bruce replies. “Tony said he’s looking forward to seeing the two of you tomorrow for dinner.”

 

His aunt smiles. “Good. I haven’t seen Tony in ages. I’d like to see that he’s in one piece for myself. Will we meet Miss Potts?”

 

“That’s the plan,” Bruce confirms.

 

His aunt reaches across the table to grip Bruce’s hand. “Be honest, Bruce. Are you okay?”

 

Bruce thinks that he’s been asked that question more often, and more sincerely, in the last few days than in the last five years. “I’m good now,” Bruce says. “Great, even.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tony _really_ wants this to work. Bruce has spent the last day with his family, which is as it should be, but he already misses having Bruce around.

 

Quite frankly, this does not bode well for his future, because he fully expects that Bruce will stay in New York while he goes back to Malibu, and Tony doesn’t want to give him up.

 

Still, Tony knows that Bruce is only a phone call away, and he doesn’t plan on letting the lines of communication close.

 

Out of necessity, Tony gets reservations at a little Italian place in Astoria, well out of the path of destruction. They bend over backwards to accommodate him, probably hoping that the press and the destruction in Manhattan will increase their profits.

 

That, and the presence of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, and the chance to have him talk up their food.

 

They meet at the Tower, since Bruce needs to get changed first, and Tony fidgets as he waits for their arrival.

 

“Are you nervous?” Pepper asks.

 

Tony pours himself a drink. “No, why would I be?”

 

“Because they’re the closest thing to family you have?”

 

“Other than you,” Tony points out.

 

Pepper raises her eyebrows. “Other than me. And Bruce.”

 

“They’re family because Bruce is family,” Tony says, and then the elevator slides open.

 

Elaine is wearing a classy blue dress and jacket combo, looking absolutely stunning for a woman her age. Jen is in a red dress and heels, and Tony hasn’t seen her in a long time, but it’s clear that she’s grown up well.

 

In contrast, Bruce looks rumpled and a little sheepish. “I’m just going to change,” he announces, nodding at Pepper before he disappears.

 

Elaine doesn’t hesitate, just walks up to Tony and pulls him into a long hug. “It’s ages since I’ve seen you. You stayed away too long!”

 

Tony winces. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

 

“Too busy to visit?” she scolds. “You live just around the corner, at least while you’re in Malibu. I expect to see you more often, Tony.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, without a trace of sarcasm. “I will do my best to show up more often.”

 

“And drag my nephew along with you,” Elaine orders. “He’s been hiding far too long.”

 

Tony lets her pull him into another hug. “Promise.”

 

“Good,” she says. “Now, introduce me to your lovely girlfriend.”

 

“Not before he says hello to me,” Jen protests, hugging Tony. “I have to say hello to my honorary big brother.”

 

“You look amazing,” Tony says.

 

“Thank you,” Jen says primly. “You can introduce me to that Captain Rogers if you want to make up for the long silence.”

 

Tony coughs. “I’m not touching that request with a ten foot pole,” he says, pulling back. “Jen, Elaine, Pepper Potts. Pepper, my honorary aunt and cousin, Elaine and Jennifer Walters.”

 

He watches as they greet each other, exchanging compliments, but it feels strange to see them together. Tony has stayed in touch with Bruce’s family over the years, and he’s been grateful to them. They’d been family after his parents had died, and had stayed in touch even while Bruce had been gone.

 

But Tony’s social circle seems to be growing exponentially, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. More people he cares about means more people to break his heart, and more potential complications.

 

Still, Bruce is back in his life, and he’s not sorry to see Elaine and Jen again. Tony refuses to complain about that.

 

“Tony has sent flowers every Mother’s Day that Bruce was gone,” Elaine is saying. “Such a lovely gesture.”

 

Pepper gives Tony a look that clearly telegraphs how unimpressed she is with Tony’s ability to remember Mother’s Day when he can’t remember Pepper’s birthday. The difference is that Pepper knows to use Tony’s money to get something for herself, when anything Tony would buy would be inadequate. Elaine won’t remember to buy flowers for herself, and he’d felt the need to send flowers in Bruce’s stead.

 

“He showed me up at least once,” Jen says. “Although, to be fair, I was in the middle of a very high profile case at the time.”

 

Elaine pats Jen on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I know very well that Tony asked his artificial butler to remember for him.”

 

Pepper laughs, as does Jen, and Tony has to admit that it’s true enough. “Okay, yes,” he admits. “But it still got done, which I think is the important thing.”

 

“And Jarvis didn’t remind you of my birthday?” Pepper counters.

 

Tony offers his most charming smile. “I thought you might be happier with something you bought yourself.”

 

“True,” Pepper agrees.

 

“Hey,” Bruce says, wearing one of the suits and dress shirts that Tony had put in his closet. Bruce looks good in saturated colors, and he looks sharp in burgundy and black, although he’d dispensed with the tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. “Sorry.”

 

“You look wonderful,” Elaine says, tugging on one of the lapels of his jacket.

 

Bruce holds out an arm. “Shall we go?”

 

They take a limo to the restaurant, and as Tony had asked, there’s a quiet table set aside in the corner, lit by candles and dim lamps. A quiet word with their waitress means that the wine keeps flowing, and they start out with some of the house specialties as starters—fried calamari, salad _caprese_ , and bruschetta.

 

Dinner is served family style, with fresh pasta and sauce in huge bowls and baskets of bread, dripping with garlic butter.

 

The only time Tony has ever had a family dinner quite like this were the infrequent occasions he stayed with Bruce, but it feels good to have everyone there.

 

Conversation flows, and everyone stays away from the events of the last few days out of mutual accord. They stick to humorous stories—strange clients and cases for Jen, funny things kids say from Elaine, travel stories from Bruce and Pepper. Tony offers little, just happy to listen.

 

No one has room for dessert, and the rest of their food is boxed up.

 

“How long are you staying?” Tony asks Elaine.

 

She shrugs. “I’m not sure. A few days at least, but if Bruce is going to stay in New York—I don’t know. I might think of relocating.”

 

“Do,” Jen urges. “If Bruce is going to be here, what’s keeping you in California?”

 

“I do own my own house,” Elaine says with asperity. “There’s something to be said for equity.”

 

“So, rent it out,” Bruce suggests. “You can still own it. I have to look for a place anyway.”

 

“There’s room in the Tower, and if that doesn’t suit you, there’s a brownstone my parents owned,” Tony offers. “I’d be happy to let you rent it.”

 

Elaine frowns. “You don’t have to do that, Tony.”

 

“I’d be happy knowing someone I care about would be in it,” Tony says. “It needs some renovation, so just let me know what you want to do.”

 

Bruce gives him a suspicious look, and Tony knows he’s going to hear about it later.

 

His parents had owned a lot of properties, though, most of which had been sold off, including the mansion on Long Island. There’s still the brownstone in New York City, and a couple of other properties, and he likes the idea of family being in that house.

 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Elaine says slowly. “I don’t want you to say that just because you feel it’s necessary.”

 

“Do I ever do anything expected?” Tony counters. “I’d be honored.”

 

Elaine smiles at him. “You’re a good man, Tony.”

 

Her approval means more than Tony can say. “Thank you.”

 

“I’m right, which is the most important thing,” Elaine announces. “Now, in deference to my advanced years, I’m going to have to cut this short.”

 

Elaine hugs Pepper, Tony, and Bruce in turn, since they’re going to separate locations. She tells Tony, “Just because you’re some intergalactic hero now, doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. I expect to hear from you regularly, you hear?”

 

“I hear,” Tony replies, hugging her tightly. “Thank you.”

 

“Nonsense,” she says. “I’ll stop by your new building tomorrow for a full tour.”

 

Tony hugs Jen, too, and she says, “Keep Bruce around, okay? He’ll stay for you.”

 

He doesn’t think that’s entirely true, but he says, “I’ll do my best. Good luck in court.”

 

“I don’t need luck,” she replies. “I’m that good.”

 

And then he’s in the limo with Bruce and Pepper, and Bruce looks flushed and happy. “Thanks, Tony. That was—that was amazing.”

 

“It was good to see them again,” Tony replies. “Pep? Did you have a good time?”

 

“Your aunt and cousin are absolutely lovely,” Pepper says to Bruce. “I plan to have coffee with Jen soon.”

 

Bruce smiles. “I missed them.”

 

And Tony feels as though he’d been able to give Bruce something, to give him something good, that no one else would have been able to give him.

 

“So did I,” Tony admits.

 

Bruce gives him a knowing look. “Thank you.”

 

And the rest of the world drops away, and it’s just him and Bruce until Pepper grabs Tony’s hand and brings him back to the present.

 

“Thank you both,” Bruce says. “I appreciate you humoring me tonight, Pepper.”

 

“It was really my pleasure,” Pepper replies.

 

And for the first time in a long time, Tony thinks that he might be able to have his cake and eat it, too.


	8. New York City/Malibu, California, Summer 2012

“You know, I think I’m offended,” Bruce says. “No, I’m definitely offended.”

 

“It’s an homage!” Tony protests, leaning in close to the camera. “Surely you can see that.”

 

Bruce leans back in his chair. “I would believe that if you hadn’t named it ‘Igor.’”

 

Tony grins. “Well, if the shoe fits.”

 

“Excuse me?” Bruce says. “I’m not your assistant.”

 

“And yet you’re helping me with so many things,” Tony counters.

 

Bruce snorts. “I could say the same to you. Are you sleeping any better?”

 

Tony turns away from the camera. “I actually wanted to talk to you about an idea I had for the arc reactor.”

 

“Tony,” Bruce says, a warning in his voice. “That’s three new suits of armor in the last fourteen days. You have to sleep at some point.”

 

“Sleep is for the weak,” Tony says dismissively. “I’m fine.”

 

Bruce wishes he were in the same room, instead of on the other side of the country so he could smack some sense into Tony. “Is there anything I can do?”

 

“No, I’m dealing with it,” Tony says. “I just—I have to make sure I can protect the people I love.”

 

“Okay,” Bruce says soothingly. “Okay. What did you want me to look at?”

 

The truth is that Tony doesn’t actually _need_ Bruce’s help. He’s fairly certain that Tony just wants the company, and Bruce doesn’t mind providing it. Tony might be 3000 miles away, but the wonders of technology mean that Bruce can be virtually present. Over the last couple of months, ever since the Battle over Manhattan, he and Tony have talked pretty much every day.

 

And even when they’re not talking, there’s an open line between them, so that Bruce can overhear Tony’s conversations with Jarvis, his orders to the ‘bots, even his music blasting in the background.

 

Bruce is fairly certain that his life isn’t nearly so interesting, but Tony doesn’t seem to mind.

 

“…and I think the next step is microtransmitters inserted subcutaneously to control the suit,” Tony finishes. “What do you think?”

 

“I think your proposal could lead to subconscious control of the suit,” Bruce says flatly.

 

Tony spins in his seat. “Exactly! I’d have better protection if I’m ever out of commission.”

 

“And you could do something you regret with the suit while in the middle of a bad dream,” Bruce counters. “I should know.”

 

“What? You hulked out during a bad dream before?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce frowns. “Once, not long after the accident.”

 

“Bad?” Tony asks sympathetically.

 

“Everything was bad in those days,” Bruce replies grimly. “I’m just saying, be careful, okay? I would hate to lose you to a lab accident.”

 

“Fly out here and supervise,” Tony invites.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “I think Pepper might have something to say about that. We’re not kids any longer, Tony.”

 

“More’s the pity,” Tony mutters. “What about you? Is Elaine settling in okay?”

 

Bruce grins. “She’s really taken to the city. We’re having dinner together tonight.”

 

“Tell her hi from me,” Tony says. “And the next time I’m in New York, we’ll all go out to dinner again.”

 

“Send me the designs for the microtransmitters, and I’ll be sure to point out all the ways it could backfire horribly,” Bruce promises.

 

He hears Pepper’s voice in the background, and Tony says, “Gotta go, Big Guy. Talk to you later.”

 

Tony’s image winks out, and a few minutes later, Bruce has Tony’s preliminary plans in his inbox. He still thinks Tony’s idea is incredibly short sighted, but he understands where Tony is coming from.

 

New York had shaken Tony, and Bruce can see the signs of obsession. He’s building an army of suits, devising ways of controlling them without having to be _in_ them, ensuring that he never has to make the same choice he had in New York.

 

Bruce feels bad for him, especially since he’s more content than he’d been since before the accident. He has work to keep him busy in a state-of-the-art lab, he has frequent contact with his best friend, and his aunt and cousin are in the city.

 

In fact, he’s planning to go out to dinner with them this evening.

 

He makes some notes on Tony’s project, suggestions to make it a little safer anyway, and is working on a project that will clean pollutants out of both water and soil when there’s a chime, and his receptionist says, “Dr. Banner, Captain Rogers is here to see you.”

 

“I’ll come out and meet him,” Bruce replies, not wanting Steve in his lab, although he can’t put his finger on the reason why.

 

Bruce likes Rogers, in a way. He’s a likeable guy, even if he does drive Tony crazy, and he seems very young to Bruce.

 

But Rogers is also the epitome of success, whereas Bruce definitely _isn’t_ , and he’s jealous. He tries not to be, because he recognizes that it’s petty, and it’s not Rogers’ fault that Bruce had been cocky and stupid.

 

Bruce swallows his jealousy, pasting a pleasant smile on his face as he goes out to the main reception area so he can greet Steve with a handshake. “How have you been, Cap?”

 

“Good,” Rogers says. “How are you, Dr. Banner? You look relaxed.”

 

“I’m doing well,” Bruce says pleasantly. “What can I do for you?”

 

Rogers shifts a bit. “Oh, I was just, uh, in town on SHIELD business, and I thought I should check in, see how you were.”

 

Bruce has the most insane urge to pat him on the head. Rogers is trying so hard to be their leader, and they’re not giving him much to work with. Tony’s in Malibu building suit after suit, Barton is still out on mandatory psychiatric leave, Natasha is doing whatever it is that she does, Thor is in Asgard, and so Rogers gets left with Bruce.

 

“I’m doing well,” Bruce replies. As much sympathy as he has for Rogers, he’s not ready to offer himself up as a willing sacrifice.

 

But then, this _is_ Bruce’s life, which means his aunt chooses just that moment to appear, striding into the small reception area outside the lab. “I’ve come to steal you away for dinner,” she announces, and only then catches sight of Steve. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”

 

Bruce shrugs philosophically. “Captain Rogers, this is my aunt, Elaine Walters. Aunt Elaine, Steve Rogers.”

 

Rogers shakes her hand, looking charmingly bashful. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Dr. Banner, I don’t want to intrude on your evening with family.”

 

His aunt shoots him a look that Bruce easily reads, and he sighs. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner, Steve,” he says, extending the olive branch. “I’m sure Aunt Elaine won’t mind.”

 

“Of course not!” she exclaims. “I’d love to meet more of Bruce’s friends. I still haven’t met many people in the city, and it’s always nice to meet someone new, especially someone so interesting as Captain America.”

 

Bruce doesn’t think he’s been this mortified by his aunt since he’d been a teenager.

 

Rogers glances at Bruce. “I really don’t want to intrude.”

 

“Do you have anything better to do tonight?” Bruce asks with a wry smile.

 

Rogers shakes his head. “No. I was hoping to have dinner with you.”

 

“The more the merrier,” Bruce says.

 

Rogers hesitates. “I really don’t want to be a bother.”

 

“Nonsense,” Aunt Elaine says, taking Rogers’ arm. “There’s no sense in you eating alone, and I think you would love my daughter. Bruce, why don’t you call Jennifer?”

 

Bruce feels as though his life is rapidly spinning out of his control, but he does as he’s asked, knowing when he’s beat.

 

He has a lot to make up for, which means he’s willing to do just about anything for his aunt at this point, even if it means having dinner with Steve Rogers.

 

~~~~~

 

“Were you talking to Bruce?” Pepper asks. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

 

“We were just talking,” Tony says. “I had to show him the latest suit design.”

 

Pepper approaches the hologram of Igor. “Based on the Hulk?” She leans in closer. “Are you calling it _Igor_? I can’t imagine that made Bruce happy.”

 

“It’s an homage,” Tony protests. “Bruce understands.”

 

Pepper rolls her eyes. “Knowing Bruce, he wasn’t impressed.”

 

“Bruce hasn’t seen it in action yet,” Tony says, knowing that he sounds sulky. “He’ll understand when he does.”

 

Pepper shakes her head. “Come have dinner, Tony. You’ve been buried in your lab too long.”

 

Tony doesn’t want to leave his workshop, but there are appearances to keep up, and he owes Pepper a dinner out. “Sure. Let’s get dinner somewhere.”

 

“Are you okay with that?” Pepper asks. “You’ve barely left the mansion since we got back from New York.”

 

Tony shrugs. “Haven’t had a lot of reason to go out.”

 

“Not when you’re talking to Bruce all day every day,” Pepper observes.

 

Tony hesitates. “We’re not always talking. Sometimes he’s just there.”

 

“And sometimes you’re talking to Elaine and Jen,” Pepper says.

 

“They’re family.”

 

Pepper’s expression is cautious. “I think it’s good that you have people who care about you, Tony, and it’s not just me. I just think it’s strange that I didn’t even know they existed a few months ago.”

 

“We’re making up for lost time,” Toy says. “It’s not a problem is it?”

 

Pepper shakes her head. “No, not at all. As long as you’re talking to _someone_. I know you’re not sleeping.”

 

Tony looks away. “I just need a little time.”

 

Pepper leans in for a light kiss. “Okay. Dinner. We could use the break.”

 

Tony pastes a smile on his face and tries not to let on to the sense of panic he feels as they head into town. He doesn’t have the suit with him—Pepper had frowned fiercely when Tony had suggested that he could fly in and meet her at the restaurant.

 

They go to an inexpensive bistro, one they haven’t been to before, in a bid to avoid the press and any fans. The other Avengers are on the news, but not the same way Tony is, since he’d been in the public eye before the Chitauri attack.

 

It’s worse now, though. They haven’t even ordered when three young women approach the table, giggling nervously.

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” one of the girls says. “We were just wondering if we could have your autograph.”

 

Tony forces a smile. “Of course.”

 

He signs a couple of napkins and a t-shirt, and then one of the women turns to Pepper. “Would you sign my shirt, too? You’re my avatar.”

 

Pepper smiles pleasantly and shoots an inscrutable look at Tony. “I would love to.”

 

“You have no idea what she meant by that, do you?” Tony asks.

 

Pepper raises an eyebrow. “It means she wants to be just like me when she grows up.”

 

“She could have worse role models,” Tony says.

 

Pepper gives him another look. “I think that might have been a compliment.”

 

“It was definitely a compliment, because you notice she didn’t want to make me into a role model,” Tony replies.

 

Pepper sniffs. “Like anyone would think you were role model material.”

 

Tony opens his mouth for a quick retort, and then thinks better of it.

 

“No, what were you going to say?” Pepper asks.

 

Tony had been about to say that Bruce had wanted to be like him at one point in time, but he’s still cautious about their relationship. He doesn’t want Pepper to think that he’s in love with Bruce—because he’s not.

 

Not really. He’s just happy to have Bruce back in his life, and that’s enough.

 

“You’re right,” Tony says with his most charming grin. “No one would ever think about emulating me. Iron Man maybe, though.”

 

Pepper flinches. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

Tony runs a finger through the condensation that his mug of beer has left behind on the table. “I know. It’s fine, Pep.”

 

She looks stricken. “You _know_ I was teasing.”

 

He does actually, now that she’s said it. Pepper doesn’t cut him down, and replaying the conversation in his mind, Tony can see the signs of teasing, and the mischief in her eyes.

 

But Tony can’t quite shake Rogers’ accusations, that he’s nothing more than a suit. People look up to him, but why should they?

 

A real hero could go to bed and sleep like a baby, right?

 

Pepper reaches across the table to take his hand. “Tony, where did you go?”

 

Tony shakes his head, unwilling to admit that he keeps going back to that hole in space, to falling, and the certain knowledge that he was going to die this time, and there would be no rescue.

 

He’d been the guy to lie down on the wire; he isn’t sure he’d managed to get off of it just yet.

 

“Talk to me,” Pepper pleads.

 

Tony takes a breath and tries to focus on the here and now. “What do you want to talk about?”

 

He can tell that she’s casting about for a question that won’t aggravate his demons, and is coming up short. Tony thinks that might be his fault; his whole life is the suit now. There’s nothing else to him.

 

“You know, I don’t know anything about Bruce and his family,” Pepper says, “but you all seem close. Did you spend a lot of time with them?”

 

Tony breathes a sigh of relief, because it’s easy to talk about Bruce, and Elaine and Jen. Bruce has been a part of his life, more or less, for the last thirty years. They’re family, even if not many people know it. “Just a few vacations,” Tony says. “Elaine didn’t mind if I crashed at their place during school breaks.”

 

He’s never really been able to talk about Bruce before, but Pepper had asked, and he tells her about the first winter break he’d spent with Bruce and his family, how desperate he’d been to get away, and how easy it was to be there.

 

And if Pepper appears melancholy, Tony writes it off as her feeling sorry for the boy he’d been, who had so much and wanted so much, all at the same time.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce tells himself that he is definitely not disturbed by how well Rogers and Jen had hit it off. It makes sense, in a way. Jen is a civil rights attorney who fights for justice, so it’s not like they don’t have anything in common. And Steve seems a bit lost, which is sure to appeal to Bruce’s aunt, who had taken Tony under her wing once upon a time.

 

It might be easier if he didn’t like Steve, if the guy was an asshole under all that patriotism. Instead, Bruce just resents him, and feels guilty for it.

 

But then, Bruce’s life has been complicated for a long time, and he refuses to give into his jealousy. Bruce will listen to the better angels of his nature, and he’ll be kind and welcoming, and remember that Steve is still very young, whatever the date on his birth certificate might be.

 

That’s not going to stop him from complaining, however.

 

“I can’t believe you’re trying to set Steve and Jen up,” Bruce complains when he meets his aunt for dinner the next day.

 

Jen works long hours, so she’s not always available, but Bruce’s schedule is more flexible, and he’s making up for six years’ worth of lost time.

 

She smiles indulgently. “It’s not setting them up. Steve doesn’t know many people, and Jen’s last relationship didn’t end well. They could both use a friend.”

 

Bruce makes a face.

 

His aunt laughs. “Bruce, just because you’re content with only Tony for company doesn’t mean everyone else enjoys the isolation.”

 

Bruce shifts restlessly. “It’s not like that.”

 

Aunt Elaine reaches across the table to pat Bruce’s hand. “Sweetheart, you’ve always been the solitary sort. There’s nothing wrong with that. Some people need to be surrounded by other people; others are content with their own company. I suspect that Steve could use someone to show him the ropes, and Jen could use the boost of having Captain America interested in her, even if it’s just as a friend.”

 

Bruce doesn’t know much about the last six years of Jen’s life, and he grimaces. “How bad was the last one?”

 

“He was a dick,” his aunt replies, and then laughs, probably at Bruce’s expression. “There’s no other word for it. He was another lawyer, and he cheated on her. She’s better off without him.”

 

Bruce begins to see his aunt’s logic. “No fear that Steve would do anything like that.”

 

“None at all,” she says primly. “Unless, of course, you have someone else you’d rather set her up with?”

 

“I don’t want to set her up,” Bruce says. “Jen and I have never interfered with each other’s love lives.”

 

His aunt gives him a sharp look. “That’s because you didn’t need interference. Tony was the only person you were interested in, at least until Betty.”

 

Bruce can’t disagree.

 

“Have you spoken to her recently?” she asks.

 

“About a month ago, after the battle,” Bruce admits. “She’s getting married, and she’s pregnant.”

 

“And you’re fine with that?”

 

Bruce really doesn’t want to discuss his love life with his aunt, but he figures he owes her a bit of leeway after his long disappearance, and letting her think he was dead. “The person I was back then isn’t who I am now,” he says, which is the simplest explanation he has.

 

“Do you still love him?” his aunt asks.

 

Bruce doesn’t even think twice. “Yes, of course, but it’s different now.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“I’ve been in love with Tony since I was fifteen,” Bruce says quietly. “But he isn’t the calmest person in the world.”

 

His aunt raises her eyebrows. “Calm isn’t what you need. If it was, you would have wound up in the wilderness somewhere.”

 

Bruce sighs. In spite of the years that had passed, his aunt still knows him too well. “Tony is in love with Pepper. I’m content with his friendship. It’s more than I thought I’d have again.”

 

She pats his hand. “Do you know, I haven’t been able to seriously date anyone since your uncle died? He was the most frustrating man, but I loved him. I can live my life without him, but I can’t imagine living with anyone else.”

 

Bruce has to admit that’s a pretty good summation of his life right now. Betty is out of his reach, and he still loves Tony. He just knows that friendship is the most he can hope for at the moment.

 

“When you’ve lived without something for twenty years, you get used to its absence,” Bruce says quietly. “There are a lot of things you can get used to.”

 

Her smile turns a bit sad. “I’m just glad you don’t have to go without anymore.”

 

“Are you enjoying being here in the city?” Bruce asks, wanting to change the subject.

 

“I enjoy being close to my kids,” his aunt says. “And I’m certainly not bored.”

 

Bruce can see that for himself. Elaine lost no time in finding a book club, a volunteer gig at a youth shelter, and she signed up for classes in sculpting and French.

 

He hasn’t asked. He figures his aunt can do whatever she wants with her time, and he’s just glad she’s happy.

 

“It’s good to have you here,” Bruce replies honestly. “It’s nice to have family close again.”

 

Elaine smiles at him warmly. “Good. I hope you won’t get too tired of having me around.”

 

Bruce thinks of long, lonely years and shakes his head. “Not a chance of that.”

 

He’s staying in the Tower for the time being, because Tony had insisted, and Bruce hadn’t been looking forward to finding a place to live. Jen had said he could sleep on her couch, but her loft didn’t offer a lot in the way of privacy, and he would have felt bad if there were an incident.

 

Granted, he’ll feel terrible if there’s an incident in the Tower, too, but at least Tony has some idea what he’s getting himself into, and there aren’t a lot of alternatives.

 

Bruce is always going to be a danger to those around him, and Tony had promised that the Tower is reinforced. He’s probably safer here than he would be anywhere else, unless he went out to the middle of nowhere.

 

And that’s not a possibility anymore. The Other Guy can be used to do something good—if just to smash alien threats—but that means Bruce can’t be on the other side of the world if he’s needed.

 

Even though it’s late, Bruce isn’t tired, and he settles down in an armchair with a book and a mug of tea, his feet propped up. Bruce is still unused to creature comforts like this, and he feels a warm hum of gratitude.

 

He’s safe, there’s no one chasing him, and the people he cares about are only a phone call away.

 

Bruce is halfway through the latest Grisham novel when the monitor on the wall beeps with an incoming call, and Pepper’s picture flashes on the screen.

 

He frowns. “Answer.”

 

Pepper’s face fills the screen, and she smiles. “Bruce, hi. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

 

“You’re not,” he assures her, feeling an uptick of anxiety. “Is Tony okay?”

 

She laughs, but the sound is forced. “Yes. I mean, he’s not in any danger, but I’m worried about him, and Rhodey’s on a mission right now, so I—you talk to him every day.”

 

Bruce takes a moment to parse through the information dump. “I do. Is he still not sleeping?”

 

Pepper sighs. “He spends all his time in his workshop. I can barely get him to take a break for meals, and he seems—panicky when we do go out.”

 

“He did go through a fairly traumatic event,” Bruce feels compelled to point out. He understands where Pepper is coming from, and he shares her concern, but he also feels as though he’s caught in the middle somewhat.

 

“I understand that,” Pepper replies. “But this time is different.”

 

Bruce runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Please don’t take this the wrong way, Pepper, because I would love to help, but I’m not sure what you think I can do.”

 

He likes Pepper a lot, but it feels a little awkward to be talking to his ex’s girlfriend about his ex.

 

“Can you visit?” Pepper asks. “Maybe drag him out of his workshop? Or at least distract him?”

 

Bruce hesitates. “Chances are we’ll just wind up doing science together. That’s kind of what we do.”

 

“Then he’ll at least have someone else with him,” Pepper says a little desperately. “Although if you _can_ get him out of the basement, that would be great.”

 

“I don’t want to intrude,” Bruce protests.

 

“I have to take a business trip,” Pepper replies. “And I don’t want to leave Tony alone.”

 

Bruce really doesn’t think this is a good idea, but he says, “There are a couple of things we’ve been working on together. And maybe I could convince him to go surfing or something. We used to do that when we were kids.”

 

Pepper gives him a relieved smile. “Thank you, Bruce.”

 

Bruce wonders if she’d still be thanking him if she knew the depth of his feelings for Tony, but nothing is going to happen. He knows that.

 

Tony is his best friend, and apparently he could use Bruce’s help. Who is Bruce to deny him?

 

~~~~~

 

“I asked Bruce to visit,” Pepper says, standing at the entrance of his workshop. “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

 

Tony spins on his stool. “Okay,” he says slowly. “I have no idea whether to be incredibly grateful that you talked Bruce into a visit, or really insulted that you don’t think I’ll be okay on my own.”

 

“You can be both,” Pepper points out. “And Bruce mentioned something about surfing. It would do you both good to get out of the lab.”

 

“I probably have enough to keep him busy,” Tony admits. “There are a couple of projects I wanted him to look at.”

 

Pepper frowns. “I asked him here to get you _out_ of the workshop.” She pauses. “That might have come out wrong.”

 

It takes Tony a minute to figure out what Pepper means, and then he frowns. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

 

“I wouldn’t have asked Bruce to come here if I were worried about _that_ ,” Pepper replies. “I trust you, and I love you, but I’m _worried_ about you. I think having him here might help.”

 

Tony can’t deny that the thought of having Bruce around isn’t a comfort. Maybe Bruce hadn’t exactly _been there_ for the hole in space, but he’s familiar with the aftermath, and Bruce has been through his own shit.

 

If anybody understands waking up in a cold sweat after a nightmare, it’s Bruce.

 

“This is why you’re awesome,” Tony says. “And I love you.”

 

“I know you do,” Pepper replies. “Take a break for me?”

 

Tony knows that he needs to reassure her, and that means taking a break. “Okay, sure, whatever you want.”

 

He tries to focus on her that night, to set aside the panic he feels at being out in the open without the suit, and to be _present_.

 

There are things that Tony hasn’t succeeded at when he’s put his mind to it, but not many, and he thinks he manages that night.

 

Pepper leaves the next morning, and Tony sees her off, itching to get back to his workshop, where he has some semblance of control.

 

“Jarvis, drop the needle,” he orders, and starts work on the next iteration of the suit. He’s still working on one that will work in space long term, but he’s come up with some other variations in the meantime that could be interesting. He has to work out the kinks in the transmitters, and somehow ensure that he has mental control over the suit. Or suits.

 

Maybe all of them at once. There’s an idea—he could have his own robot army.

 

Jarvis interrupts. “Sir, Dr. Banner has arrived.”

 

“Send him downstairs,” Tony orders. “He has full access.”

 

Bruce enters the workshop a few moments later, and Tony notices that he looks good in a gray suit and blue shirt that actually fit him. “Hey there.”

 

“Bruce, buddy ol’ pal,” Tony says. “It’s great to see you, thanks for coming, and I’m fine.”

 

“Pepper says you’re not sleeping,” Bruce counters. “And she’s worried about you.”

 

Tony sighs. “I _can’t_ sleep. I’ve tried.”

 

Bruce shoves his hands in his pockets. “Okay.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“Sometimes you can’t sleep,” Bruce agrees. “I get that.”

 

If Pepper had passed her worry off to Bruce, he’s not showing it. He’s just watching Tony with amused fondness, and Tony can’t quite believe that he gets to have this again.

 

“Thanks,” Tony says quietly. “Really.”

 

Bruce responds by taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “Come on, I want to see what you’re working on.”

 

“I hope you weren’t expecting me to still have the particle accelerator,” Tony says.

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “There’s no way you wouldn’t have mentioned having one of those in your basement weeks ago, if only to get me to visit.”

 

“Would you have come out sooner if I did have one?” Tony asks, and he’s teasing, but there are so few people who are willing to put up with his shit, and he sometimes wonders if Bruce was staying away for that reason.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “Probably not unless you invited me.”

 

And Tony had said something about Bruce dropping in anytime, but he realizes now that Bruce had probably needed a little more of a push than that. Bruce has learned caution over the last few years, and he’s learned hard lessons about not taking anything for granted, even when Tony wishes he would.

 

“Anything else you want to do while you’re here?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce hesitates. “Actually, I’d love to go surfing.”

 

Tony hasn’t been surfing in years, and he generally tries to avoid being naked, or semi-naked, in public with the arc reactor. But with Bruce, and covered up in a wetsuit, it might be kind of fun.

 

“You got it,” Tony promises, because anything that will make Bruce happy is something Tony will do, if it’s within his power. “Maybe tomorrow?”

 

“Great,” Bruce says. “But for now, show me the latest version of the suit?”

 

“You got it,” Tony agrees easily, and he finds himself relaxing with Bruce in a way that he can’t around anybody else.

 

But then, that’s nothing new.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce doesn’t try to force Tony to go to bed that night, knowing that it would be fruitless. Instead, he waits until it’s late, and then he suggests that he make dinner for the two of them.

 

“You don’t have to cook,” Tony protests.

 

“I’ve gotten a lot better at it over the years,” Bruce says with a smile. “And I’m hungry.”

 

“Well, when you put it that way…” Tony says. “I could eat.”

 

Someone had apparently stocked the fridge before Bruce arrived, and he finds a carton of eggs, cheese, and vegetables, and he starts to whip together a couple of omelets.

 

“Where did you learn to do that?” Tony asks, perched on the counter next to Bruce.

 

“I always liked helping Aunt Elaine out in the kitchen,” Bruce begins as he starts cracking eggs. “And when I got my own place, and I met Betty, I put it to use. She didn’t really like to cook, and I did, so it wasn’t a chore. And then later, when I was on the run, I didn’t always have enough money to eat out.”

 

“I really wish you’d called me,” Tony admits.

 

Bruce pauses as he grates the cheese. “I wish I had, too.”

 

“So, moral of the story?”

 

“I call you the next time I’m in trouble?” Bruce suggests.

 

Tony smiles. “That will do.”

 

They eat dinner together, and then Bruce suggests a movie. He figures that even if Tony can’t sleep, he can at least relax. They end up watching _Real Genius_ , which they’ve both seen before—actually, they’d seen it together.

 

Tony gradually falls asleep, tipping over sideways until his head is resting on Bruce’s thigh, and Bruce rests a hand on his shoulder. He drifts off, too, and then wakes when Tony stirs under his hand.

 

“Tony, hey, Tony,” Bruce murmurs, his hand tightening on Tony’s shoulder. “Come on now. It’s just a bad dream.”

 

Tony wakes with a gasp, and he would have fallen off the couch if Bruce hadn’t clutched at him, anchoring Tony to the couch. “What—”

 

“Don’t make this weird,” Bruce murmurs. “Come on.”

 

He stretches out behind Tony and puts an arm around his chest, holding him close. It feels dangerous, what they’re doing, because Tony is out of his reach, and Bruce doesn’t even know if he _could_ have this if Tony were free.

 

But that’s not what this is; holding Tony now is just as innocent as what Tony had done for him when they were kids. It’s just comfort and friendship and a reminder that Tony isn’t alone.

 

“I’m not going to sleep,” Tony mutters rebelliously.

 

“Sure you’re not,” Bruce replies. “Did I ever tell you about this time when I got stuck in a brothel for the night?”

 

“You did not,” Tony says.

 

Bruce chuckles against the back of Tony’s neck. “I did. I was on the run from the Army, and it was the only place I could think of at the time. It turned out that the madam had a problem with her computer, so I fixed it.”

 

Tony laughs. “Tell me you didn’t _just_ fix her computer.”

 

“We talked,” Bruce offers. “At the time, I wasn’t even sure I _could_ have sex without the Other Guy making an appearance, and she was a nice lady.”

 

“And now?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce breathes out slowly and doesn’t pretend to misunderstand the question. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s still a risk. Bodily fluids are a risk, and there hasn’t been anybody I cared enough about to try.”

 

“That’s a damn shame,” Tony says.

 

“You haven’t slept with nearly so many women since Afghanistan,” Bruce points out.

 

Tony huffs out a laugh. “No. When trust becomes an issue, it can narrow down your choices.”

 

Bruce tightens his grip. “It’s not that big of a deal for me, really. I’m more than content right now.”

 

Tony sighs. “Good. I didn’t realize how much I needed you here until I saw you.”

 

That’s probably a dangerous sort of thing to say, but Bruce isn’t about to complain. Instead, he rubs small circles into the back of Tony’s neck, easing the knots he finds there. Tony grunts, but Bruce can feel the tension begin to ease out of him.

 

Eventually, Tony slumps against him, lax and heavy, and Bruce closes his eyes, slipping down into sleep.

 

Bruce counts it a success when Tony doesn’t stir until dawn, rolling off the couch and stretching, mouth open in a jaw-cracking yawn. His t-shirt rides up, showing a thin sliver of pale skin.

 

“You hungry?” Tony asks when he catches Bruce watching him. “We could take a drive, get some breakfast, maybe even find a place to surf.”

 

Bruce sits up cautiously. “Only if you want to.”

 

“I think it’s about what you want to do,” Tony says. “You’re the one on vacation.”

 

Bruce gives him a long look. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

 

Tony scoffs. “Like you could. We’ll head back if things get too weird.”

 

“You mean weirder than usual?” Bruce teases.

 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. I think the rest of the world is insane, not us.”

 

“Well, we are the only ones who can speak English,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony dishes out the charm that day, not quite flirting, but not far from it either. They take a leisurely drive down the coast and stop for breakfast burritos at a roadside stand, and then they head for a beach Tony knows.

 

With a little more warning, Bruce knows that Tony could have rented out an entire beach, purchased the best surfing equipment, and generally thrown his money around. Today, Tony just puts the briefcase suit in the trunk, and they go.

 

Sitting in Tony’s convertible with the top down, Bruce is suddenly 18 again, with nowhere to be and nothing to do other than hang out with his best friend. When they find a beach and a place to rent gear, no one gives them a second look, especially when Tony pays cash.

 

There are curtained off areas to change, so no one has the chance to see the arc reactor.

 

Bruce doesn’t think of himself as particularly attractive, but he’s also shed a lot of his modesty over the last few years, and the wetsuit covers more skin than the tattered remains of his clothes after an appearance by the Other Guy.

 

Tony emerges from the dressing room, rolling his shoulders. “These things always feel so clammy.”

 

“Just wait until you get in the water,” Bruce advises, repeating the same advice Tony had doled out to him the first time Bruce had gone surfing.

 

Tony makes a face. “Come on, then.”

 

Avengers or not, they’re still a couple of middle aged guys who only surf occasionally, and Bruce wipes out spectacularly a few times.

 

Tony has obviously kept up his physical training, because he seems to have a better sense of balance, and he does fairly well, right up until he tries to take on a massive wave.

 

Bruce is standing in the surf, watching him, when he sees Tony wipe out, and he waits anxiously for Tony to pop back up again, the way he has every other time. When he doesn’t see Tony immediately, he begins paddling out, stroking through the water easily.

 

He could probably have moved faster without his board, but Bruce thinks that if Tony’s having real difficulty, it might be easier to haul him out this way, because if _Bruce_ panics, the Other Guy is likely to make an appearance.

 

Bruce spots Tony’s untethered board just a few moments before he sees Tony, and he lets the board drift, heading in Tony’s direction.

 

Tony is gasping for air, but he’s managing to tread water, and Bruce realizes there’s another, underlying problem. He grabs the back of Tony’s wetsuit and just hangs on until Tony grabs Bruce’s board. Once Bruce is certain Tony has a good grip, he drops off the other side to provide some balance, and then he just treads water, hanging on, feeling the hot sun beat down on the back of his neck.

 

Eventually, Tony’s breathing starts to even out, and Bruce asks, “Are you okay to swim back? I can haul you on the board if you need the assist.”

 

“I’m fine,” Tony replies, still a little breathless, but sounding irritable, too, which Bruce takes as a good sign.

 

“Okay, good,” Bruce replies. “Because I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

 

It’s an easy out, and Bruce knows that he’s not imagining the gratitude on Tony’s face.

 

They swim in together, and Tony takes a detour to grab his board, which some kind soul has pulled up on the sand. And then they sit on the shore, and Bruce unzips his wetsuit until he can pull off the top half, letting it pool around his waist. He notices that Tony doesn’t do the same.

 

“You want to talk about what happened back there?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony shakes his head.

 

“Okay,” Bruce agrees easily. “I had a thing I wanted to run by you, anyway. I’ve been looking at desalinization techniques, something that could be done on the cheap with renewable energy, maybe even with an arc reactor. Clean water is a problem for a good percentage of the world’s population, and—”

 

“I couldn’t breathe,” Tony says.

 

Bruce stops and takes a deep breath. “I guessed that. Was it a flashback?”

 

“I don’t know,” Tony admits. “It was fucking awful. I couldn’t breathe, and I just—I thought I was having a heart attack.”

 

Bruce casually reaches over and feels the side of Tony’s neck, and the skin is clammy, in spite of the warm sun. “Panic attack.”

 

“What?” Tony asks, giving him a startled look.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Panic attack. I used to get them when I was a kid, you know. One minute, I’d be fine, and the next—well, I thought I was going to die.”

 

Tony swallows, and Bruce can hear how harsh the sound is. “That’s it? I’m just fucked up?”

 

“Tony,” Bruce says softly, turning to look at him. “Think about who you’re talking to for a minute, okay? Think about the first thing I told you when you said we should be roommates.”

 

Tony looks at him, and comprehension dawns. “You said you had nightmares.”

 

“I’m sorry this is fucking with your head,” Bruce says quietly. “I can’t tell you how to fix that. I can’t even tell you that it _is_ fixable, and you’ll find some magic bullet to solve the problem. What I can tell you is that you’re going to survive this. You’re going to be okay.”

 

Tony lets out a choked sound, and Bruce puts an arm around his shoulders, the way they’d done when they were kids.

 

“I don’t want you to go back to New York,” Tony confesses.

 

Bruce tips his head back to look at the sky. “I know. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay here, though. Not really. I don’t think Pepper would approve.”

 

“I still love her,” Tony murmurs. “She’s—she’s the most important person in my life right now.”

 

Bruce feels that sting, and takes it on. If he’d called Tony after the accident, they wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, he knows. That’s on Bruce, and if he’s not entirely happy with the status quo—even though he’s trying very hard to be grateful for what he has—it’s his own damn fault.

 

“And you’re lucky to have her,” Bruce replies quietly. “But if you need something—anything—from me to hold it together, you know how to get in touch with me.”

 

“I do,” Tony agrees.

 

They turn in their gear and head back to the mansion, stopping on the way for greasy burgers and fries. They don’t talk much, and while Bruce feels a low hum of attraction, it’s easily ignored. He has had years of practice, after all.

 

And if they spend the rest of Bruce’s time there in the workshop, and very little time sleeping, Bruce doesn’t question that either.

 

He’ll give Tony whatever he needs. Bruce owes him that much.


	9. New York City, December 2012/January 2013

“You coming out over Christmas?” Tony asks, keeping it casual.

 

He and Bruce have maintained near-constant contact in the last couple of months, and Bruce is one of the few people who understand about the panic attacks, and everything else. Rhodey and Pepper try, and they do get it in their own ways, but Tony continually has the impression that they just want him to be okay.

 

Bruce, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind that he’s _not_.

 

Guilt flashes across Bruce’s face. “Were you planning on me coming out?”

 

“No, not necessarily,” Tony replies easily, swallowing his disappointment. “I just thought it might be fun. You could bring Elaine and Jen, too.”

 

“We’re actually going to take a trip together,” Bruce admits sheepishly. “Aunt Elaine wanted to take a family vacation, since this is our first Christmas together in years.”

 

Tony feels a flash of raw envy. He doesn’t begrudge Bruce the time with his aunt and cousin, not after everything Bruce has gone through, but it’s been months since he’s seen Bruce in person, and he misses him.

 

“Where are you guys going?” he asks, keeping his tone light.

 

“Aunt Elaine and Jen wanted to go to the beach, and there’s a place I know of that’s pretty far off the beaten track,” Bruce explains.  “Fair warning, but I’m not even sure that there’s internet.”

 

“What, you’re leaving me?” Tony asks, only half-feigning hurt.

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “It’s ten days, Tony. Surely you can manage to stay out of trouble for that long.”

 

In retrospect, Tony is perfectly willing to blame Bruce for jinxing him, although Bruce has nothing to do with Tony challenging the Mandarin, daring him to come after him, and giving his home address.

 

He half-expects Bruce to get word and read him the riot act, and when he doesn’t, it’s obvious that Bruce really is out of touch. Pepper hits him with both barrels, though.

 

“I can’t do this anymore, Tony!” she shouts as she drops a bag over the railing. “Did you even stop to consider that this is _our_ home? You’re not the only one in the relationship.”

 

Tony feels a sick sense of dread that has nothing to do with giving out his address to an international terrorist. “I know that. You know I love you.”

 

Pepper descends the stairs, her posture ramrod straight with anger. “You don’t have any place for me in your life. You have the suits, you have science, you have Bruce—there isn’t anything left for me.”

 

Tony swallows. “What are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying that I can’t do this anymore,” Pepper replies. “I can’t compete with your suits, or with Bruce.”

 

“You don’t have to compete with Bruce,” Tony protests.

 

“Don’t I?” she counters. “You talk to him more than you talk to me.”

 

“We speak the same language!”

 

“Exactly!” Pepper closes her eyes and takes a deep, audible breath. “I still love you. I will always care about you. But you say that you care about me, and then you go and challenge a terrorist and give him our home address, and you didn’t even give me a second thought.”

 

Tony can’t argue with her; he knows she’s right. He knows that he had acted rashly, without really thinking about the ramifications. For all his protestations that he wanted to protect her—the one thing he couldn’t live without—he’s doing a piss-poor job of it.

 

“I’m sorry,” he offers.

 

“Tell me that when we get out of here,” Pepper replies grimly. “I told you, Tony. I love you, and I would really prefer if you survive this moment of insanity.”

 

Of course, it only gets worse from there, because Maya Hanson shows up, and then his _house_ gets blown up, and Tony winds up in—of all the fucking places—Tennessee.

 

He leaves a message for Pepper, because he knows she’ll get it somehow, and because he has no means of contacting Bruce. Jarvis is offline at the moment, and he doesn’t have the number for where Bruce is staying readily at hand. If Bruce even gets the news before Tony saves the day.

 

And he’s _going_ to save the day.

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce is honestly feeling a little twitchy without ready access to the internet. Granted, he could have brought his Stark phone, or Stark Pad with him and gotten satellite access, but his aunt had insisted that a vacation wasn’t a vacation if he didn’t get away from work.

 

Since he still feels as though he owes his aunt for disappearing for so long, Bruce acquiesces, but he regrets it when he spots the front page of the newspaper in the lobby of the resort. He snatches it up from one of the side tables and scans the headline quickly.

 

_TONY STARK PRESUMED DEAD – SEARCHERS STILL LOOKING FOR BODY_

 

Reading the article quickly, Bruce swallows hard and reminds himself that if the body hasn’t been found, Tony is very likely still alive.

 

He hopes, anyway. Bruce has been to Tony’s Malibu mansion, and given the details in the article, if it slid into the sea, it’s entirely possible that his body is trapped in the rubble.

 

Someone snatches the paper out of his hand, and he hears Jen say, “Oh, fuck. Bruce—I’m sorry. Let me make some calls, okay?”

 

He doesn’t ask who she’s calling, although he assumes it’s Steve. Bruce is also fairly certain that SHIELD is keeping tabs on him and Tony, so he can only think that they don’t know where Tony is either, and they don’t need him.

 

That’s the problem with his alter ego, and with SHIELD not officially knowing about his past relationship with Tony. There’s no reason they would tell Bruce if they know anything at all.

 

He suddenly has a very good idea of how Tony had felt all those years go, although his aunt or Jen would have told him if they knew anything concrete. Bruce doesn’t even have that comfort.

 

He stares at the headline and contemplates what he’s going to do, and who he should call if Jen doesn’t have any information. It turns out that Steve doesn’t know anything, because Jen returns without any additional answers.

 

“Tony survived three months in Afghanistan,” Jen says, trying to console him. “They didn’t find a body then, and he came back a superhero. He’ll probably come back from this with even better superpowers.”

 

Bruce tries to summon a smile. “You’re right, I’m sure. I should try to call Pepper, anyway.”

 

Calling Pepper should have been his first thought, but Bruce’s brain had short-circuited at the possibility of Tony’s death. If anybody has inside information, it would be her, and if the worst _had_ happened, he could at least offer his support.

 

His call to Pepper goes straight to voicemail, and he leaves a brief message. “Pepper, it’s Bruce. Call me when you get this, okay?” He gives the phone number for the hotel where they’re staying and hangs up.

 

“Nothing?” Jen asks.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “She might just be busy. She’d have to be, right?”

 

“I’m sure that’s all it is,” Jen agrees. “What do you want to do?”

 

Bruce swallows. The reality is that there’s nothing he _can_ do. He could join the search for Tony’s body, but he’s not going to be able to offer anything unique. And he’d told Tony where they were staying. If Tony is alive, surely he’d call.

 

Elaine enters the lobby, wearing a long dress over her bathing suit. “Why the long faces, you two?”

 

Bruce hesitates, and then holds out the newspaper.

 

Her hand goes over her mouth as she reads the headline, and then she shakes her head. “No. Tony will land on his feet. He has before, and he will again.”

 

Maybe she’s just in denial, but Bruce feels better anyway. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

 

“What do you want to do, sweetheart?” his aunt asks, running an affectionate hand over his new, shorter haircut. “We can leave early.”

 

Bruce figures that he’s either going to fret in New York, or on the beach, and he doesn’t want to deprive his aunt and cousin of their vacation. “No,” he says finally. “I can go back to New York and be useless there, or I could enjoy the beach here. Tony knows how to reach me.”

 

Elaine reaches out and pulls him to his feet. “Come on. I think you and Jen have a surfing lesson, and I want to watch. That should be a distraction.”

 

It is, and it isn’t. Jen is absolutely terrible at surfing, but she’s never met a challenge she doesn’t like, and she insists that if Bruce can do it, so can she. The physical demands of surfing, and trying to keep his patience with Jen’s ineptitude are a good distraction.

 

Still, thoughts of Tony intrude frequently, although Bruce hopes that he hides his worry, at least for Jen and Elaine’s sakes. Worry won’t change anything.

 

But of course he can’t let it go, because it’s Tony, and Bruce is still in love with him, no matter how hard he’s tried to fight it.

 

Bruce can honestly say that the most important person in his life is Tony, and while his loss will not be the end of Bruce this time—or the attempted end—he can’t imagine losing Tony again. He hopes that Tony is fine, and holed up somewhere, hiding from the Mandarin, finding a way to come back and make things right.

 

The worry eats at him over the course of the day, and into the evening. He tries to call Pepper again, and gets no answer. There’s nothing in the news either, at least not until the announcement comes out about Air Force One going down.

 

At that point, Bruce knows that it’s going to be impossible to get his flight changed, so he might as well stay through his vacation.

 

Even if he feels as though he’s slowly going insane from the uncertainty.

 

Elaine and Jen try to keep his spirits up by ignoring the elephant in the room and staying away from the topic of Tony entirely. Bruce pushes the worry to the back of his mind, the same way he had ignored his fear of being hunted while trying to help people. It was always there, but it became white noise after awhile.

 

His present worry is more like a constant drumbeat of fear.

 

Bruce doesn’t sleep that night, sitting up in his room at the resort and flipping through news stations. He still hasn’t been able to reach either Pepper or Jarvis, and that just makes things worse.

 

Finally, shortly after the sun has come up, Bruce sees the breaking news alert: _Iron Man and the Iron Patriot Save President… Vice President Implicated in Assassination Attempt… Mandarin Captured_.

 

No one has any details beyond that, although you’d never know it, as often as they repeat the same few facts. The important thing is that Tony is alive, and has apparently saved the day, although there’s still no word on Pepper. Bruce hopes that no news is good news for Tony’s sake.

 

Bruce just hopes that Tony picks up the phone and _calls him_.

 

Elaine gives him a sharp look when he appears at breakfast. “Did you sleep at all?”

 

“No, but apparently Iron Man is in one piece, and that’s the important thing,” Bruce says wearily. “I just hope that Tony remembers to call me at some point in the near future.”

 

As though his words have summoned him, one of the hotel staff approaches their table. “Dr. Banner? You have a phone call. You can take it here or at the front desk, or I can take a message.”

 

“I’ll take it here,” Bruce replies, and accepts the cordless phone from her. “Banner.”

 

“I need you here,” Tony says. “I know you’re on vacation, but I need you to come home. It’s Pepper.”

 

Bruce feels his heart sink. “Did—”

 

“She’s alive, for now, but—there’s too much to explain over the phone. Just say you’re coming home.”

 

“Where?” Bruce asks. “I heard your house in Malibu got blown up.”

 

“The Tower,” Tony replies. “For the foreseeable future, anyway. Say you’ll come.”

 

“You’re an asshole,” Bruce complains. “I was worried about you! I saw the headlines, and they said you were dead.”

 

“It fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” Tony counters.

 

Bruce sighs. “I’ll have to change my flight.”

 

“I’m sending the jet,” Tony says. “Just be sure you’re at the airport by midafternoon.”

 

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony lets out a sound that might almost be a laugh. “I don’t know. Pepper broke up with me, I blew up all of my suits, and I’m still having panic attacks.”

 

“But you saved the President,” Bruce points out. “And I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? Just hang in there.”

 

His aunt looks sympathetic when Bruce hangs up the phone. “Do you want us to go back with you?”

 

“No, that’s okay,” Bruce replies. “You should enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

 

“Let us know if there’s anything we can do,” Elaine replies.

 

“Thanks,” Bruce says, but his mind is already a thousand miles away with Tony, and whatever problem it is that they’re going to solve together.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony paces near the door of the private hangar, waiting for Bruce’s arrival. He’d offered to stay with Pepper, but she said he was making her nervous. At least Tony had gotten word that Happy was awake, and looked to make a full recovery—eventually.

 

It’s just that Tony _needs_ to see Bruce right now. He needs the anchor that Bruce provides.

 

The jet taxis into the hangar, and the stairs descend. Bruce emerges a few seconds later, looking tanned and rumpled, with several days’ worth of stubble on his face.

 

“Tony,” he says immediately, and closes the distance between them.

 

There are no more recriminations. Bruce just wraps his arms around Tony and holds on tight, and Tony does the same. Bruce smells of sweat and salt and something subtly spicy, and Tony breathes him in.

 

When Bruce releases him and steps back, Tony can’t resist any longer, and he cups Bruce’s face in his hands and leans in for a kiss.

 

There’s a moment where Bruce freezes, and Tony thinks that maybe he doesn’t want this anymore, but then Bruce’s hand slides up to cup the back of Tony’s head, his fingers threading through Tony’s hair. Tony feels the scrape of Bruce’s stubble, the heat of his mouth, the sly swipe of Bruce’s tongue against his.

 

And Tony suddenly feels as though he’s waited twenty years to do this again, and it’s been worth the wait.

 

When they both break off to catch their breaths, Bruce murmurs, “Are you sure it’s not too soon?”

 

“We waited twenty years for this,” Tony says, pressing his forehead against Bruce’s. “So, no.”

 

“Just promise me that the next time everybody is presuming you dead, that you _call_ me,” Bruce says, and his voice sounds wrecked.

 

Tony pulls back slightly. “I’m kind of hoping that the next time something like this happens, we’ll be together.”

 

A smile breaks out over Bruce’s face. “I can live with that.”

 

Tony fills Bruce in as they drive back to the Tower—about Maya, about Extremis, about the last few days, and how he needs Bruce to help him fix Pepper. “I know we broke up,” Tony says as he finishes his story. “But I owe her, Bruce. I have to fix her if I can.”

 

“Of course you do,” Bruce agrees easily. “It’s Pepper. You’d have to try to save anybody in that situation, right? And since it’s Pepper, that’s doubly true.”

 

“I thought that with the two of us working on it, we’d be more likely to figure this out before Pepper loses control, or Extremis kills her, however that works.”

 

Bruce yawns. “Definitely. Between the two of us, we’ll figure it out.”

 

“I can work on it while you get some sleep,” Tony says. “You look exhausted.”

 

Bruce offers a half-hearted glare. “Yeah, because I couldn’t sleep while I was waiting for news about you, asshole.”

 

Tony just gives him a fond look. “I thought we talked about this already.”

 

Bruce snorts. “We did, but I think I might be better at holding a grudge.”

 

Tony can’t resist wrapping an arm around Bruce’s shoulders, pulling him in close. The fact that Bruce presses his face to the side of Tony’s neck suggests that he’s not holding a grudge so much as reminding Tony to maybe not nearly die without giving Bruce some word again.

 

“You’re actually terrible at holding a grudge,” Tony replies. “You probably don’t even harbor any ill-will towards Ross.”

 

“I just want him to leave me alone,” Bruce mutters, his voice muffled in Tony’s skin.

 

Tony smiles. “I fucked him over, by the way.”

 

“What? Why?” Bruce asks, although he doesn’t move.

 

“Because I was pissed as hell that he’d been responsible for whatever happened to you, and Coulson asked me to irritate him enough so that he didn’t release the Abomination,” Tony replies, a little surprised that he hasn’t told Bruce the story until now.

 

Then again, they’d had other things to think about, and talk about, besides Ross.

 

Bruce groans. “Blonsky was an asshole, and he was an even bigger asshole after he took the serum.”

 

“Where the Hulk is generally just pissy, particularly when people are shooting at him,” Tony supplies.

 

He has his reasons for being rather fond of the Hulk, starting with the fact that he’s a part of Bruce, and ending with how the Hulk had saved Tony’s life.

 

“I’m kind of an asshole,” Bruce admits.

 

“True,” Tony agrees. “But so am I, which is why we’re perfect for each other. If you were any nicer, you probably wouldn’t like me at all.”

 

“I’ve liked you since I was fifteen,” Bruce replies.

 

“I was an asshole at fourteen, too.”

 

“Weren’t we all?”

 

“Teenagers usually are,” Tony says softly, because Bruce is half asleep against him, and Tony has realized that he doesn’t feel guilty about that fact.

 

They aren’t stealing time any more. Maybe there will be people who will be upset at the idea that Iron Man is in love with a man, but they’re bigots. Most people won’t care. Most people are inured to his sexual exploits anyway, and as long as he keeps saving the world, they won’t care who he’s fucking.

 

He feels a small pang because he knows that he hadn’t been an entirely innocent party in his breakup with Pepper, and he’s sorry for any hurt he caused her.

 

But the fact is that Bruce is plastered to Tony’s side right now, sleepy and pliable. They’re going back to Tony’s lab to find a way to fix Extremis.

 

And it doesn’t matter who knows. _It doesn’t matter._

 

“I’m not letting you go again,” Tony murmurs. “Just FYI.”

 

Bruce pulls back slightly, and his expression holds a tinge of wonder. “Good,” he replies. “I kind of need someone to hold on to me. Just FYI.”

 

And Tony surges forward and kisses him again, not even noticing when the car comes to a stop, not until the driver clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but we’re here.”

 

Bruce pulls back first, but he runs a hand through Tony’s hair and presses his forehead to Tony’s. “We have some work to do.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony replies, but he thinks that might just be fine, because they’re working together.


	10. Coming Out 2013-2014

“No, no, no,” Bruce says, spinning on his lab stool to grab another piece of data, tossing it to Tony. “ _That_ is the protein responsible for the instability. I’d bet my next paycheck on it.”

 

Tony grabs the holographic molecule and, with an expansive motion, expands it. “Forget the paycheck, I’ll bet you a blowjob.”

 

“Giving or receiving?” Bruce asks with a wry grin.

 

“Mmm,” Tony murmurs. “Neither would be a hardship.”

 

Bruce snorts. “You know I’m not entirely safe, right?”

 

“Fine, we’ll continue being cautious if you’re right,” Tony says. “But you’ve seen the results. Your semen is perfectly safe and free from gamma radiation.”

 

Bruce doesn’t argue, because he’s done the tests himself. Saliva and semen are safe; blood isn’t. It’s probably a good thing that neither of them is interested in hurting the other, even during sex. Tony gets hurt enough as Iron Man, even inside the suit, and Bruce won’t take on the risk of the Other Guy making an appearance if he’s hurt.

 

Besides, Bruce doesn’t mind giving under the circumstances.

 

“I don’t mind wearing a condom,” Bruce points out.

 

Tony makes a face. “I’m not interested in the taste of latex, thanks. I remember what _you_ taste like, and I’d like to make my own comparisons to the new and improved version.”

 

Bruce feels himself blush. “I’d hardly say I’m improved.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Big Guy,” Tony murmurs, turning from the data to Bruce, reaching him out and pulling him closer. “Like a fine wine, you only get better with age.”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

Tony brushes a hand over the front of Bruce’s pants. “ _That_ suggests otherwise.”

 

Bruce doesn’t feel as though he has any other choice but to shut Tony up with a kiss. They try to keep such displays for Tony’s bedroom—or Bruce’s, since they haven’t officially moved in together—mostly because they’d never get any work done otherwise.

 

Also, they’re not quite ready to tell anyone the truth of their relationship.

 

Still, Bruce hasn’t gotten used to having someone who _wants_ to touch him, who knows about the Other Guy and not only doesn’t care, but likes him even more. It’s all too easy to lose himself in Tony’s kiss for long moments at a time.

 

When he hears a throat being cleared, Bruce jumps back as though he’d been burned, although he immediately feels bad about it. He’s been hiding this part of himself for far too long for the habit to die easily.

 

Tony grabs on to Bruce’s shirt, preventing him from moving too far away, and he turns to face the doorway. Pepper is standing there, her eyebrows raised, her expression unreadable—at least to Bruce.

 

“Can I help you?” Tony asks.

 

She sighs. “No. I just thought—you’ve been working all day, and Jarvis said that neither of you had eaten. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

 

“You didn’t,” Bruce hastens to assure her, feeling incredibly awkward. “It’s, um, it’s—”

 

“What Bruce is trying to say is that we’re together, and he realizes that this could get very awkward, but since we’re working very hard to save your life, maybe you could give us a little leeway.”

 

His tone is defiant, but Bruce knows Tony well enough to hear the undercurrent of vulnerability, and Bruce suspects that Tony has no idea how to keep Pepper as a friend now that she knows how quickly they’ve leapt back into their relationship.

 

Bruce wants to assure her that nothing had happened until she’d broken up with Tony, but he knows it won’t do any good.

 

Pepper shakes her head. “Do you think I didn’t know, Tony?”

 

Bruce isn’t quite sure what she knew, but Tony looks abashed. “No,” he admits. “I just—”

 

Pepper holds up a hand. “Why don’t I call for dinner?”

 

Tony nods. “Thanks.”

 

“One hour, or I’ll tell Jarvis to chase you out and not let you back inside again,” Pepper instructs.

 

Bruce sighs as the door slides shut behind her. “Well, this isn’t awkward _at all_.”

 

Tony’s still staring at the door. “I loved her, you know.”

 

“I know,” Bruce says miserably. “I’m sorry.”

 

“No, hey, none of that,” Tony quickly says, turning to face Bruce. “We gave it a good try, and it didn’t work out. One of these days, Pepper will find somebody who worships her like the goddess she is. And that person will make her the center of their world, like she deserves.”

 

Bruce rests his hands on Tony’s shoulders. “What about you?”

 

“I have someone who speaks my language, who knows me better than anyone, who’s seen me at my best, and my worst,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce swallows heavily. “So do I.”

 

“It’s going to take time, but Pepper and I will work things out,” Tony promises. “We go back a long way, and we’ll be fine. You and me? We’re epic, Bruce.”

 

Bruce presses his forehead against Tony’s. “Yeah, we are. I don’t have to join you guys for dinner.”

 

“Yes, you do,” Tony argues. “Because Pepper is still the CEO of Stark Industries, and you guys are going to have to get to know each other eventually. I’d like it if you got along.”

 

“Okay,” Bruce agrees. “I’ll try.”

 

“That’s all I ask,” Tony says, and pulls him in for another kiss.

 

Bruce eventually breaks it off. “We have a job to do. We have to save Pepper.”

 

Tony turns back to the data, and he huffs. “Damn, you’re right.”

 

“Told you,” Bruce says.

 

Tony shoots him a grin. “I guess I have to get used to not being right all the time.”

 

“Face it, I keep you sharp,” Bruce replies.

 

“I’ve missed you,” Tony says sincerely.

 

Bruce rests his hand on the back of Tony’s neck. “Yeah. Me, too.”

 

When they finally emerge from the lab, just under the time limit Pepper had given, they have the answers they need to save Pepper, and they can take a break for long enough to get something to eat.

 

And after a long silence, where Pepper just stares at them, she finally says, “You know, Bruce, Tony never did give me the full story on how you two met. I’d like to hear your side of things.”

 

Bruce feels himself relax, and he takes the peace offering. “I’m happy to.”

 

~~~~~

 

They never really talk about how they’re going to come out. Pepper knows, of course, and they’re not trying to hide it, but they’re also not taking out an ad in the _New York Times_ to advertise their relationship. Pepper seems okay with it, at least as much as she can be.

 

Tony thinks that it probably makes things a little easier on her to know just how long Tony’s been in love with Bruce. It’s not something new; it’s something very, very old, something that she had no chance of competing with, especially once she took herself out of the running.

 

For his part, Tony is grateful that Pepper is being so gracious, although she’s been spending a lot of time elsewhere now that they’ve fixed her.

 

Tony focuses on work, and ropes Bruce into as many projects as he can, and even though they have their own things to do, they work out of the same lab unless they can’t.

 

He feels starved for Bruce’s presence, wanting to soak up every moment he can. Even on nights when they don’t have sex, he’s grateful to sleep in the same bed. Sometimes, they spread out with plenty of space between them. Sometimes, Tony tucks himself behind Bruce and presses his nose against the back of his neck. Sometimes, Bruce sprawls over Tony, weighting him down.

 

Tony doesn’t mind at all.

 

And they move slowly, because Bruce is cautious, and he doesn’t want Tony hurt, and so they’re careful. They use condoms and dental dams, and they are slow and gentle, and Tony is incredibly patient.

 

Tony is _so_ patient he’s pretty sure no one would even recognize him, other than Bruce.

 

But Tony has been waiting for Bruce for twenty years now, and he fucking loves the guy, and he wants to _fuck_ this guy, and he’s okay with taking the time to get there.

 

So, no, Tony’s not necessarily in a hurry to have the rest of the team find out about them. He wants to cement their relationship; to be sure Bruce isn’t going to run again, to be sure that Bruce _stays_ with him.

 

In all honesty, Tony is waiting for Bruce to make the first move, and since he doesn’t they keep things under wraps without even trying.

 

They’re used to it, and Tony is okay with it, and so they just do their thing.

 

That is, they do their own thing until Bruce gets hurt while they’re out with the rest of the team.

 

Tony hadn’t thought Bruce _could_ be hurt, is the thing.

 

They get the call while they’re working together out of Bruce’s lab. Bruce is running some tests that require the gamma imager Tony bought for him, and Tony is working on the next iteration of the suit, as usual.

 

Fury’s face showed upon the large monitor on one wall. “We have a problem. We need you and Banner on site. Barton will pick you two up.”

 

“I don’t need a pick up,” Tony replies. “Just tell me where I need to be.”

 

Fury frowns. “We can fill you in while you’re in the air.”

 

“Jarvis will take care of that,” Tony says. “I’ll be fully connected via the suit.”

 

Bruce winces, although he doesn’t say anything until Fury grumbles a goodbye and shuts down the connection. “Are you sure?”

 

“Sure about what?” Tony asks, saving his work, and beginning to head out of the lab and for the elevator. While the armor can come to him anywhere, he’d rather be able to take off from the roof than stomp through the halls of the Tower in the armor.

 

Bruce grimaces and follows him. “Tony, they’re going to find out.”

 

Once they reach the penthouse, Tony walks out onto the roof, with Bruce at his heels, and he makes an abrupt gesture, knowing that the suit will come to him. “Find out about what?”

 

“About us?” Bruce prompts.

 

“Do you really mind?”

 

Bruce shrugs. “I just—I don’t know. No.”

 

The rest of the armor slots into place around him. “You don’t sound all that certain.”

 

“You’re going to take a lot of flak,” Bruce points out. “They’re probably going to think you’re insane. I’m sure they already do, since you’re letting me stay here.”

 

Tony catches the helmet before it can cover his head. “Bruce, I’m only going to say this once, but everybody else can go fuck themselves, okay? This isn’t twenty years ago. Pepper’s running Stark Industries, and I’m just the CTO. I’m fucking _Iron Man_. If the team has a problem with it, then we don’t have to be a part of the team.”

 

“They need you,” Bruce counters.

 

Tony wishes he weren’t encased in armor right now, because he wants to run his hand through Bruce’s hair, and he can’t. “They need you, too, and so do I. But if you want to wait, and if you don’t want to come on this mission, you can stay here.”

 

Bruce scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just—I don’t know. Never mind. If you’re okay with it, then so am I.”

 

Tony leans in for a hard kiss, and then he puts his helmet on. “See you on site.”

 

“Well, you’ll probably see the Other Guy,” Bruce counters, and he stays on the roof as Tony takes off.

 

Jarvis feeds Tony the information as he’s flying toward Chicago, which is apparently the city that the most recent villain has decided to attack. The news says the guy has a suit of armor two stories tall, and that he’s been destroying property and shooting people. There’s no word yet on _why_ he’s doing any of those things, or what he wants, if anything.

 

In Tony’s experience, the villain _always_ wants something, even if it’s not immediately obvious what that might be. All Tony cares about right now is that someone else has a suit of armor, and is using it to terrorize a city. That always pisses him off.

 

Tony beats the Quinjet there, and he finds the giant robot near the Navy Pier, which is bad news, because there are a lot of civilians in the area. “We’re definitely going to need the Hulk, guys. This guy is about twice his size.”

 

“Wait for us, Tony!” Steve orders. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

Tony spots a group of about a dozen kids hiding around the corner of a building with the bad guy bearing down on them. “I can’t wait, Cap. I’ve got a group of kids here who are going to be in the line of fire in about thirty seconds.”

 

“We’re two minutes out,” Barton replies, sounding frustrated.

 

“I’ll get the kids, and you guys get here as soon as you can,” Tony replies, and lands, putting himself between the group of kids and the bad guy—who looks like he’s wearing a version of the Mark 1, only less even less elegant. Apparently, he’s of the same school of thought as Obadiah had been, thinking that bigger is better, and giving absolutely no thought to style.

 

But he wants the guy’s focus on _him_ , and he glances over his shoulder to see the kids staring at him. “Run. I’ll keep him from coming after you.” When they don’t move, Tony orders, “Run _now_.”

 

One of the older girls in the group, who looks about thirteen, starts to herd them away, staying out of the bad guy’s line of sight.

 

“Hey, asshole! That suit you’ve got looks like a kindergartener made it!” Tony shouts.

 

The suit turns, the eyeholes glowing red, and fires at him without saying anything. Tony dodges it easily, but judging from the crater left in the ground, he’s packing some major firepower. It’s probably a good idea to _not_ get hit.

 

He’s big, but not fast, which means Tony can fly circles around him, firing his repulsors, and keeping the bad guy off-balance and occupied.

 

Of course, that means he’s also getting pretty frustrated by his inability to pin Tony down, and he manages to get in a lucky strike with a flailing arm, knocking Tony to the ground.

 

He’s trying to pick himself up when he hears the Hulk roar, and Tony sits up in time to see the Hulk fling himself at the robot.

 

Natasha hadn’t accompanied them, as they don’t need her skills for this, so it’s just Barton and Steve, and they’re both working on clearing the area of civilians, apparently deciding to let the Hulk and Tony deal with the bad guy.

 

And then the robot hit Hulk square in the chest, actually knocking him down, and the bad guy fires some new kind of weapon, the beam blue-green this time, and it hits the Hulk in the chest.

 

The Hulk lets out a cry of pain, and he shrinks down to Bruce’s form, but the beam doesn’t let up, and Tony abruptly realizes that Bruce isn’t moving, and the Hulk isn’t going to come back to protect him.

 

“Bruce!” Tony calls, and he puts on a burst of speed, hitting the robot in the back and causing the beam of the weapon to turn aside, away from Bruce. “Cap! I need some help here!”

 

Steve comes running up, grabbing Bruce under his arms. “Can you handle this?”

 

“Just get him out of here,” Tony snarls. “Make sure he’s okay.”

 

Barton says, “We’ve cleared most of the civilians from the area. What can I do?”

 

“Got any of those exploding arrows?” Tony asks. “I think I’ve identified a couple of weak spots.”

 

“Just tell me where,” Barton replies.

 

Tony calls out directions even as he looses a couple of small missiles that target the joints of the knees. He’s fairly certain that their mad scientist is somewhere in the chest area of the armor. Barton’s arrows hit the neck joint and both elbows nearly simultaneously.

 

And then Tony puts out a blast from the arc reactor aimed squarely at the robot’s chest, and it explodes.

 

Tony waits just long enough to be sure that the robot is not going to move again, and he says, “Do me a favor and check to see if he’s dead. I need to check on Bruce. Cap, where are you guys?”

 

“SHIELD is bringing in the medics,” Steve replies and then gives brief directions. “We’re not sure what that thing did, but Bruce is still unconscious.”

 

Tony probably shouldn’t have blown the thing up, because he might have been able to figure out what the guy had done to Bruce, or had Natasha interrogate him.

 

Steve is kneeling when Tony reaches them, Bruce cradled against his chest, probably to keep him off the bare ground. With a though, the suit opens, and Tony steps out. “I’ve got him.”

 

“It’s really okay, Tony,” Steve replies. “I don’t mind.”

 

“I said, I’ve got him,” Tony insists. “You can go help Barton.”

 

Some unknown emotion flickers across Steve’s face, and he says, “Okay, sure. I get it.”

 

Tony doesn’t care what Steve does or doesn’t get. He gets Bruce propped against his chest, half in his lap, and he presses his lips to Bruce’s temple. Bruce’s skin is a little cool to the touch, but a quick check shows that his pulse, while very slow, is still steady.

 

Tony clutches him tighter and takes a deep breath.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay here?” Steve asks, his tone gentle. “I can stay.”

 

“I’m fine,” Tony insists, but fear is swamping him.

 

“I’ll stay here until the medics arrive anyway,” Steve says. “Barton says he has things under control on his end. Looks like at least one person got blown up along with that suit.”

 

Tony honestly doesn’t care.

 

The SHIELD medics arrive a few minutes later, and they take over, putting Bruce onto a gurney and loading him into a van. It’s pretty clear that they’re not sure what to do with him.

 

“You could go with him,” Steve suggests.

 

Tony shakes his head. “No, I need—I need to know what he did to Bruce, just in case…” He trails off, unable to think about the worst-case scenario. “Do we know where he was hiding out?”

 

Steve nods. “We can head there now. Tony—”

 

“Save it for the debrief, Cap,” Tony says, and feels his panic lessen as his armor encloses him. “We have work to do right now.”

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce wakes slowly, every muscle aching, his mouth dry, and his eyelids feeling as though they’ve been glued shut. He groans and feels a familiar hand card through his hair.

 

“Easy,” Tony cautions. “You got hit pretty hard.”

 

“Wh—” He coughs.

 

Tony presses a straw to his lips, and Bruce drinks thirstily. “Go slow,” Tony advises. “You’ve been unconscious for a couple of days.”

 

Bruce finally manages to open his eyes, and he can see how exhausted Tony is. His beard is shaggy, and there are dark circles under his eyes. “What happened?”

 

“He had a weapon that drains a person’s life force. If it had hit anyone else, they’d be dead,” Tony says quietly. “It might have actually managed to kill you if he’d had enough time.”

 

“Good thing he used it on me instead of someone else then,” Bruce says.

 

Tony sets the glass of water on the table next to the bed, and takes Bruce’s hand in his. “Don’t say that.”

 

“I’m not dead, am I?” Bruce asks, although he doesn’t say that he feels half-dead. “I survived, and someone else probably wouldn’t have. _You_ wouldn’t have.”

 

Tony gives him a long, hard look. “I just got you back, Bruce. I can’t lose you again.”

 

“You won’t,” Bruce promises recklessly. “You won’t. Hey, come here, huh? You need to sleep.”

 

“I can’t sleep without you,” Tony says stubbornly.

 

“So? Get over here. We can squeeze in. We’ve done it before.”

 

Tony doesn’t need further convincing. He toes off his shoes, and Bruce turns on his side, scooting to the edge of the mattress. Only by squeezing together tightly, Tony’s back to Bruce’s front, do they manage to make it work.

 

“You should probably eat something,” Tony mutters. “You have to be hungry.”

 

“I hurt too much to be hungry,” Bruce admits.

 

“I’m hurting you,” Tony protests.

 

The heat from Tony’s body is easing his sore muscles, and he says as much. “We both need this, so shut up and go to sleep.”

 

“People are going to talk,” Tony murmurs.

 

“Let them talk,” Bruce replies.

 

He falls asleep like that, his nose pressed to the back of Tony’s neck, and he knows that he’ll never get enough of this.

 

Bruce wakes when he hears a throat being cleared, and he cracks open an eyelid to see Steve standing there.

 

“It’s good you got him to sleep,” Steve says softly. “He hasn’t left your side since we brought you in.”

 

Bruce smiles. “Yeah, well. He knows I’d do the same for him.” Tony sleeps on, and Bruce asks, “Are you okay with this?”

 

Steve shrugs. “As long as it doesn’t interfere out in the field, I don’t care. And—I’m glad you have such a good friend.”

 

“I’ve known him since I was fifteen,” Bruce says quietly.

 

Steve shakes his head. “Well, that explains a lot. You feeling any better?”

 

Bruce tightens his hold on Tony. “Getting there.”

 

“Get some rest,” Steve advises. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

 

Bruce smiles as Steve leaves, and then he presses his face into Tony’s back.

 

By the time the doctors release Bruce the following day, word has spread through SHIELD headquarters, and there are more than a few people who give them strange looks as Bruce limps out, Tony hovering at his side.

 

“Are you sure you don’t need a wheelchair?” Tony asks.

 

“I’m stiff and sore, but I’m not dying,” Bruce insists. “Stop hovering. People are staring.”

 

“Let ‘em stare,” Tony replies. “I have a hot boyfriend. They’re just jealous.”

 

Suddenly, Fury’s in the middle of their path, and Bruce definitely does _not_ want to do this now.

 

“Can’t this wait?” Tony snaps. “I want to get him home.”

 

“I want to know how you managed to keep your relationship secret for almost three decades,” Fury rumbles.

 

Tony shrugs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Fury holds up an old photograph, and Bruce blinks. It’s a photo of the two of them holding the first place trophy between them. Bruce barely recognizes himself, but he remembers how Tony looked; he remembers how it had felt to win.

 

Tony snatches the photograph out of Fury’s hand. “That’s a good picture of us. I hadn’t seen this one before.”

 

“I didn’t even know they’d taken a photograph,” Bruce says mildly. “But it is a good picture.”

 

“Thanks for this,” Tony says cheerfully. “We’ll be going home now.”

 

Fury sighs. “I hope you have a speedy recovery, Dr. Banner. Let me know when the wedding will take place.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes expressively, and Bruce shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. It’s not until they’re in the back of Tony’s limo that Tony says, “You know, we could.”

 

“We could what?” Bruce asks, leaning his head back, already exhausted. He’d forgotten how it feels to come out of a long sickness, and he could have done without the reminder.

 

“We could get married.”

 

Bruce rolls his head to look at Tony. “Seriously?”

 

“There is seriously no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life with,” Tony replies, and Bruce can see how sincere he is.

 

Bruce smiles. “Yeah. I mean, me too. I just—didn’t think you’d want to get married.”

 

“Granted, it’s partly a giant posthumous fuck you to Obie, but I want to know that if you ever get hurt again, I have the legal right to be there, and vice versa,” Tony replies. “I want the world to know that if they want you, they have to come through me first.”

 

Bruce fumbles for Tony’s hand and holds on tightly. “I guess it makes sense, right?”

 

Tony raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

 

“You and me,” Bruce says. “Always.”

 

And Tony pulls him in for a long, heated kiss that holds all the echoes of the past, and all the promises of the future.


	11. Epilogue

The newspapers have a heyday when word leaks that Tony Stark has married Dr. Bruce Banner, a fellow Avenger. _The New York Times_ is the first paper to find the photo of their time together at the science camp—and yeah, okay, Tony totally leaked that—and run it side-by-side with a photo of the two of them in Central Park.

 

At that point, pretty much everybody decides that their romance is epic, other than a few detractors. The story changes from a whirlwind romance brought about by the heat of the moment, to that of two star-crossed lovers who finally got their happy ending.

 

Right now, Tony is in bed with his husband, feeling fucked out and lazy, Bruce curled into his side. The rest of the world can believe what they want. Tony’s got everything he ever wanted right here.

 

Bruce stirs slightly and presses a kiss to Tony’s shoulder. “We should get cleaned up.”

 

Tony wraps an arm around him. “Why? We’re on our honeymoon. We don’t have to be anywhere.”

 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a little sticky,” Bruce objects.

 

Tony grins. “You’re just going to get dirty again.”

 

“Maybe in a few hours,” Bruce agrees with a laugh. “I’m not eighteen anymore, Tony. Neither of us are.”

 

“Good thing, too,” Tony murmurs and closes his eyes. “The nice thing about growing old is that you stop giving a fuck about what other people think.”

 

“That’s one nice thing,” Bruce agrees. “I love you.”

 

Tony smiles. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“I cannot believe you just Han Solo’d me,” Bruce complains, but Tony catches a glimpse of his smile.

 

“The fact that you would say that just reinforces the idea that we’re perfect for each other,” Tony points out.

 

“Well, we always have been on the same wavelength,” Bruce replies. “By the way, Aunt Elaine wants to take us out for a celebratory dinner soon.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Tony agrees. “Wait, doesn’t this mean she’s my aunt, too?”

 

“You’ve always been family, Tony,” Bruce murmurs affectionately. “This just makes it official.”

 

Tony smiles. “In this case, I don’t mind official.”

 

“Didn’t think you would,” Bruce replies.

 

And Tony sees the next few decades stretching out in front of them, and he knows it’s going to be great.


End file.
